


Love in My Arms and the Sun in My Eyes

by Kihyunie



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Domestic Nomin, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Moving In Together, No plot just fluff, Pride, Slice of Life, side markhyuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-23 16:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18154532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kihyunie/pseuds/Kihyunie
Summary: Jeno is pretty sure that this is the once in a life time kind of love. The forever kind. None of his past relationships have made him feel like this and whenever he looks at Jaemin – he just knows. That this is the person he’s going to end up marrying. This is the person he wants to wake up to every morning and go to sleep with every night. The person he wants by his side, no matter what life may throw their way.He wants it all. With Jaemin.(aka nomin are soft college boyfriends)





	Love in My Arms and the Sun in My Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kokuchim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kokuchim/gifts).



> I wrote this last winter for Em's birthday (hence the christmas stuff) because she deserves all the soft nomin in the world. <3  
> this is for her and for her only, but since I'm planning to write a part two I thought I should edit it a lil and publish this here too~
> 
> idk if you guys can tell that this is older writing (I definitely can ;_;) but I hope you enjoy it anyway!  
>  
> 
> (warnings for mentions of/implied spice and some uuhh undressed debauching. there's nothing explicit but if you'd rather avoid stuff like that completely maybe don't read this hhh)

Jeno is in the middle of practicing a song when Jaemin comes into his dorm room. His hair is messy and almost hides the mischievous look in his eyes when he closes the door behind him. Even though it’s been a while now Jeno just never gets used to how easily Jaemin can distract him.

He lets the chord fade out before he greets him with a quiet “hey.”

Jaemin smiles and lets himself fall down on the mattress next to Jeno, pressing a quick kiss to his now reddening cheek.

Yeah. He never gets used to this.

“What are you up to?” Jaemin asks.

Jeno gestures to the guitar in his lap. It has certainly seen better days; there’s a tiny dent where he’s knocked it against his nightstand once and a scratch from when someone else hadn’t been kind enough to it. The other imperfections have been covered up by a variety of stickers: a ‘come as you are’ in an intense purple, a ‘DREAM’ in neon green bubbly font next to the Hogwarts crest, and of course the glittery ‘in love with a star boy’ that Jaemin had stuck on without telling him.

It might not be the fanciest thing in the world but Jeno loves this guitar with every fibre of his being. Giving it away would be equivalent to cutting off his right hand, or ripping out his heart.

“Practicing for that Christmas thing,” he tells Jaemin.

“What song?”

“ _Shake up Christmas_. You know, one of those Coca Cola ones.”

Jaemin makes a terribly adorable “oooh” sound. He’s always so easily excited about Jeno’s music, so unwaveringly supportive that it sometimes embarrasses Jeno. “Show me.”

It had taken a long time before Jeno’s shyness let him sing in front of Jaemin. He isn’t a particularly great vocalist, just good enough for backup vocals, some adlibs and the occasional line here and there for band performances. But Jaemin likes to hear him sing. That always gives him enough strength to try his best.

He strums the first chord. Playing is second nature to him; the strings an extension of his hands and thoughts. Whenever he’s stressed all he needs to do is pluck a song from this instrument.

There’s only one other thing in the world that has the same effect on him and that one is sitting next to him, listening keenly.

The acoustics in the room are terrible at best and Jeno hasn’t warmed up his voice but for Jaemin he sings anyway, the first verse and the chorus. When he glances over, Jaemin is smiling at him, leaning in so close that Jeno can feel his body warmth.

The music rings out and it’s quiet for a moment before Jaemin starts applauding him.

“Whoa, baby,” he swoons. “You should have your own concerts. You’re so good I don’t know why Mark keeps putting you in the back –“

“Nana.” Jeno knows his ears are red from embarrassment. He also knows Jaemin will notice in two seconds if he doesn’t distract him. “Do you want to learn a few chords?”

They’ve tried this before. Jaemin isn’t particularly patient nor that invested in instruments he doesn’t already know but more often than not, he indulges Jeno anyway.

So Jaemin nods and Jeno scoots back on the mattress, patting the space between his legs. “Sit in front of me.”

Jaemin gives him a smirk that makes his ears feel hot again but he does as he’s told. It’s a little difficult to figure out the logistics but Jaemin finally holds the guitar, Jeno’s arms wrapped around him, putting Jaemin’s nimble fingers in place.

It’s always hard to concentrate like this. Jeno’s chest is pressed against Jaemin’s spine, his chin hooked over his shoulder to be able to see what he’s doing and if he was any less interested in music he’d probably just pull Jaemin closer and cuddle him for the rest of the day.

But he lives and breathes music, so he says, “This is a C.”

Jaemin runs his thumb over the strings. The sound is a little off because he isn’t pressing one of the strings down hard enough but the second time is better.

“Nice,” Jeno says. God, Jaemin smells so good. A little like rain since he came from outside, and a little like the fresh earthy deodorant he likes to use, but mostly he smells like Jaemin. Like something so familiar it’s hard to put a name on it.

You can’t tell what home smells like, just that you love it.

“Show me another one,” Jaemin says. With the way they’re sitting Jeno can feel the words rumble in his chest.

He rearranges Jaemin’s fingers. It’s a little difficult and it makes both of them giggle but Jeno manages. This time Jaemin strums a little more confidently. “This is an E.”

Jaemin leans back a little, turning his head to look at Jeno. He’s so close Jeno goes a little cross-eyed. “Can you play a song we both know?”

Jeno smiles and kisses the tip of Jaemin’s nose before reaching around him to hold the guitar himself. It’s a tight fit but this is Jeno’s favourite – spontaneous jam sessions on a rainy afternoon when both of them should be doing coursework.

“How’s _Somebody to You_?”

“Yes!”

Jaemin loves this song. They both do. For the past week they’ve been playing it on Jeno’s shitty car stereo when they’re driving anywhere, belting out the lyrics without a care in the world, shouting the words at each other with unbridled passion until they are hoarse.

Of course Jeno learnt how to play it the day he discovered the song.

This version, the one in Jeno’s room at five in the afternoon, is a quieter version but Jeno doesn’t mind. It’s more honest this way.

Jaemin is pretty much his only friend who isn’t in the university’s band. He’s decent at the piano and from Jeno’s (perhaps a little biased) point of view his voice is that of an angel but Jaemin prefers dancing and listening. He’s sort of the unofficial mascot, bodyguard and manager of the band, always there before and after performances to take care of the team, getting everyone’s coffee orders and hyping them up before going on stage.

And really, there’s something lovely about being the only one who gets to hear him sing. Jeno can live quite well with this: Jaemin sitting between his legs, singing, “ _All I wanna be, all I ever wanna be, yeah, yeah, is somebody to you_ ,” with his soft voice while Jeno harmonizes with him, getting carried away by the music. Jeno lets his own voice fade out until Jaemin is the only one singing.

Jeno loves him so much he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

He presses his lips to Jaemin’s nape like he’s wanted to since Jaemin came in, starts littering Jaemin’s neck with kisses so light they’re barely there. Jaemin’s voice wavers a little but he doesn’t stop singing, just tips his head to the side to give Jeno more space.

Jeno realises he stopped playing but he doesn’t really care. He kisses Jaemin right behind the angle of his jaw, open-mouthed, letting his lips slide a little lower until he can feel Jaemin’s faint heartbeat on his jugular against his mouth.

Jaemin’s voice turns breathy before he stops, dropping the guitar on the mattress. “Jen…”

Jeno sucks a little on the sensitive skin below Jaemin’s jawline. He tastes like salt and warmth and the same undefinable thing he smells of.

Jaemin sighs contently before struggling out of Jeno’s embrace and turning around. His eyes are bright with emotion, the apples of his cheeks a little flushed. “You’re so distracting.”

“Oh, _I_ was distracting?”

“Yes,” Jaemin says and pouts a little. He crawls forward until he’s straddling Jeno, cupping his face with gentle hands. “You’re always distracting. No matter what you do.”

When Jaemin kisses him, they’re both smiling into it.

 

***

 

Sometimes Jeno has bad days. He figures that’s the curse of a creative mind – it gets tangled in its own threads, hangs itself up on the nails it knocked into the walls itself, picks at its own scabs until they’re bleeding again.

It’s hard to do things on days like that. It’s hard to feel anything. Jeno spends his time hiding out in his room, waiting for the sun to reach him again.

The difference now is that he has his own personal sun and this one won’t let him wallow in self-pity like the regular one does.

No. This sun forces itself into his room. A light so warm Jeno can feel it on his skin even when he thinks he can’t feel anything at all.

Jaemin always makes him feel _more_.

Jaemin can’t take the heaviness of his mind away, but he keeps Jeno company. Jeno will never find enough words to express how grateful he is for these simple things: the fact that Jaemin stays in his room with him, quietly studying or reorganising the things he keeps in the bottom drawer of Jeno’s wardrobe while Jeno naps the numbness away. The fact that Jaemin whips up an actual dish when Jeno didn’t even realise he hasn’t eaten anything the whole day. The fact that Jaemin can make him feel like he’s worth something when everything inside him is telling him the opposite.

They’re in Jaemin’s dorm room, a fifteen minute march away from Jeno’s apartment because Jaemin insisted Jeno needed to see a different set of walls. Jeno had grumbled about it but usually Jaemin’s right, so here they are.

Jaemin’s walls are painted light blue, the kind of blue you’d find an early spring sky to be. There’s the mixtape playing in the background that Jeno had made for Jaemin a few months ago. Somehow Jeno finds it touching that Jaemin is still listening to it.

Jaemin himself is halfway draped over Jeno, so warm that Jeno is starting to sweat a little, and he’s drawing flowers on the back of Jeno’s hand with his finger.

Even on the many good days, Jeno asks himself how he deserves this. Thinks he must have been an angel in his past life to get Jaemin to love him. When he’d said this to Jaemin he’d just shaken his head with a soft smile and replied, “You’re an angel in this one.”

It’s difficult to believe but for Jaemin, Jeno tries.

“Are you hungry?” Jaemin asks quietly.

Jeno blinks and finds his vision a little blurry. He didn’t realise he was getting this emotional. Then again, on days like this, he has fairly little control over what he’s feeling.

He closes his eyes. “Not really.”

Jaemin hums and Jeno feels his lips against his skin, on his wrist, lingering on his pulse point. He scoots up and Jeno feels his breath on his face before Jaemin kisses his forehead.

“I love you, Lee Jeno,” he says quietly. “All that you are. Even the dark bits. Even the bits you don’t think are lovable.”

Jeno squeezes his eyes shut tighter. Jaemin’s fingertips are smooth on his jaw and cheeks, and he places a light kiss on his mouth, innocent, pure.

“Baby, look at me.”

Jeno opens his eyes.

Jaemin is smiling down at him and he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Even in the grey light of another rainy afternoon, Jaemin looks like a guardian angel who’s here to protect Jeno from his own thoughts and it must be a miracle because it’s working.

He’s so bright. So warm. His own personal sun. Jeno wonders what that makes him: is he the moon? Is he a black hole? A simple star that can only dream of burning this fiercely?

Something wet leaks out of Jeno’s eyes, rolls down his temples.

“I just want you to know,” Jaemin starts, “that you’re everything to me. That I hate to see you so sad but that even when you are, I’m here. I’ll always be here. Okay?”

“I don’t deserve you,” Jeno whispers, voice a little rough from disuse.

“You do,” Jaemin says. He leans down and kisses both of Jeno’s cheeks, tangles their fingers together.

“You were born to be loved,” he mumbles against his skin.

Jeno takes a breath and it comes out a sob. It’s like the words have turned the faucet open and it all comes spurting out at once, too hard, and Jeno lets it. Jaemin buries his face in Jeno’s neck and lets him cry, holding him close enough to share heartbeats.

Jeno may not deserve him but he’ll do whatever it takes to keep him this close. This boy who’s made of stardust and sunlight and kindness. The part of his soul that Jeno has always been missing. The one person who can make him feel like himself even on the worst days.

Jaemin props himself up, smiling down at Jeno with so much tenderness in his eyes that Jeno’s breath catches. He’s running his thumb over Jeno’s cheekbone, wiping the tears away.

“And you know what?” Jaemin whispers. “I was born to love you.”

Jeno pulls him back down, not intending to ever let him go again.

 

***

 

“Hey, Jeno,” Jaemin says around a bite of his avocado toast. Jeno has half the mind to tell him off for speaking with food in his mouth but it’s pointless. He still can’t believe he’s dating someone who likes avocados.

“Hm?”

“Do you mind if we put up some mistletoe at your place? Renjun won’t let me do it at mine.”

Jeno raises an eyebrow. “You don’t need an excuse to kiss me.”

Jaemin puts his toast down and pouts. With his green Christmas tree turtleneck, he looks both adorable and tacky. “But it’s romantic.”

“Whatever makes you happy,” Jeno sighs and Jaemin beams.

 

“Nana, don’t you think this is a little… much?”

Jaemin glances down from his ladder. “It was on sale!”

“You don’t _have_ to buy everything that’s on sale. Now you’re just a victim of capitalism. It’s true. Christmas is about profit and exploitation and –“

“Don’t ruin it! Also it’s not that bad. Your apartment was in dire need of a little more green.”

Jeno gives his tiny living room a doubtful onceover. Most of the ceiling is covered in mistletoe and Jaemin is in the process of filling the few white spaces with whatever he has left over from the kitchen and bedroom. Honestly, this looks more like a greenhouse than anything else by now.

“You do know your double-sided tape won’t keep it up there for long, right?” Jeno tells him. “You should have left a space above the bed to avoid twig attacks in the middle of the night.”

Jaemin snorts. “Your bed is where we spend 70% of our time, no way I’d leave that out.”

“Again, you can kiss me anytime –“

Jaemin climbs down from the latter and grabs Jeno’s wrists. “ _Romance_ , Jeno. Slow-dancing under a ceiling full of mistletoe to _I’m Dreaming of A White Christmas_. I’ll put up some fairy lights to soften it all and then you’ll stand here in the cute red Christmas sweater that I got you and –“

“You got me a Christmas sweater?” Jeno asks incredulously.

Jaemin nods sheepishly. “Don’t be mad, I swear it’s cute –“

“No, it’s – I got you one, too.”

At this Jaemin smiles. It’s one of those one thousand watt smiles, the one that Jeno fell for when he met Jaemin for the very first time in the library back in induction week. Two and a half years later, it has the same effect.

“We really are soulmates,” Jaemin says. “Come on, let me see what you got me.”

 

This is how they end up: Jaemin, in his incredibly gross glittery Elf sweater, holding Jeno close, who’s wearing a red Rudolf pullover. There’s Christmas music playing in the background and every light is off, the few candles on the coffee table softening Jaemin’s features even more than the expression of fondness on his face. 

None of them really care about following the correct dance steps, content just swaying back and forth with the way they’re pressed together.

It’s one of those moments Jeno wants to catch in a jar like a firefly to look at later, preserve in amber for safekeeping so he’ll never lose this feeling. The entire world is quiet, holding its breath to not interrupt the intimacy between them.

That is, until the first mistletoe falls off the ceiling, landing on Jaemin’s hair.

Jaemin screams.

 

***

 

The Christmas gig goes well. Not that Jeno expected anything else with how hard everyone practiced but you never really know. It certainly helped that Mark had worked day and night to build up a reputation and Jeno is proud to say they have a little fan club going on.

Jaemin doesn’t like it. He hates seeing Jeno talk to any of the excited girls even though he must know how committed Jeno is. The upside is, though, that on evenings like this Jaemin gets a little possessive, which means he gets extra touchy.

Needless to say Jeno sometimes talks to those girls just to rile Jaemin up a little.

He doesn’t even get a chance today, though. The moment he steps off stage a person in green comes barrelling towards him, launching themselves at Jeno who can’t do anything but do his best to keep his footing.

Jaemin nearly knocks him over, wrapping his legs around Jeno’s waist. Jeno staggers a little under his weight but catches himself quickly.

“You were amazing!” Jaemin shouts. “I couldn’t look at anyone else but you. Also you never told me you were going to _rap_ , I lost my shit when your part come on, like, what the fuck! I thought you couldn’t get any hotter. I swear I almost broke Renjun’s hand, I was _blown away_ and then when _Shake up Christmas_ came on, damn – and Jisungie did so well, I’ll have to hug him, too, but ugh. Jeno. You’ll be the death of me.”

Jeno sets Jaemin back down on the ground, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. “So you liked it?”

Jaemin shakes him a little, grinning back at him. “Obviously. I can’t believe you out-do yourself every single time, I just – wow. I see you on stage and all I wanna do is stand on the damn chair and scream ‘That’s my boyfriend!’”

“Please don’t,” Jeno laughs. “Everyone knows it anyway.”

“They better,” Jaemin says, sending a glare in the general direction of the audience. “Oh! There’s Jisung, excuse me, I need to go cuddle the shit out of him –“

 Jeno watches with amusement how Jisung tries to escape Jaemin’s grabby hands but it’s for naught.

 

They decide to stay for the party. All the other band members do and they have a few drinks together before Donghyuck drags Mark onto the dance floor while Chenle vanishes with Jisung and Renjun tries to drink a really tall guy under the table.

By then Jeno is a little tipsy, feeling warm and comfortable. There’s still Christmas music playing, some people shouting the lyrics, faces flushed. There are so many Santa hats and elf costumes that everyone starts to look the same.

Not that Jeno really has eyes for anyone but Jaemin.

Jaemin is wearing the ugly Christmas sweater Jeno’s given him, still somehow managing to be the most attractive person in the room. Maybe it’s the eye makeup that Hyuck had helped him with. Maybe it’s Jeno’s first-hand knowledge of what Jaemin looks like without that sweater.

Maybe it’s just that he’s so in love with Jaemin that he doesn’t care what he looks like.

“Do you wanna dance?” Jaemin asks, pulling Jeno close by the hips. Both of them are swaying along to some remix of _All I Want For Christmas Is You_ and Jaemin has that _glint_ in his eyes that makes Jeno’s blood run hotter.

“Hm, not sure. What do you wanna do?”

Jaemin leans closer until they’re cheek to cheek, his words warm against the shell of Jeno’s ear. “Baby,” he says in that deep voice of his and Jeno feels his knees go a little weak. “I want to take you home and pull off that stupid sweater and kiss every inch of your skin and –“

“Nana!” Jeno flushes and pinches Jaemin’s sides.

Jaemin leans back a little to give him a shit-eating grin. “It’s so funny that you still react like a virgin –“

“Oh my _God_. I’m breaking up with you.”

Jaemin pouts. “Are you playing hard to get?”

“Come on,” Jeno says, grabbing Jaemin’s wrist. “Let’s dance.”

 

Jeno can’t decide if this was a terrible or an amazing idea. They’re both a little drunk and Jeno knows that Jaemin turns into a wannabe stripper when he’s given any noteworthy amount of alcohol and it’s him who has to deal with the consequences.

Consequences being that Jaemin is currently grinding his ass against Jeno’s front with _Havana_ blasting from the speakers, one hand reaching back to touch his neck, the other pushing Jeno’s own under his sweater, and it’s very, very hard to breathe. Jeno isn’t sure if the air is so thick because there are so many people or because Jaemin is seriously testing his self-control. He smooths his hand over Jaemin’s lean stomach, the edge of his hipbone hard under his thumb, holding him close instead of pushing him away.

Jeno never ever wants to push him away.

“Jaeminie,” Jeno breathes and Jaemin tilts his head to the side, exposing his neck. Jeno can’t resist the urge to kiss the expanse of unmarked skin there and Jaemin pushes back against him before he stops. “I changed my mind. Let’s go home.”

“But this song’s really good,” Jaemin says and spins around, wrapping his arms around Jeno’s neck until their foreheads are pressed together. Jaemin looks so alive in the ever-changing lights of the party, eyes sparkly and joyful, lips bitten red. Jeno feels him everywhere, thrumming with energy, his body so warm it feels feverish against Jeno’s, temptation personified. It’s impossible not to kiss him and Jaemin meets him halfway.

Jeno never gets tired of kissing Jaemin. Right now, he tastes like mulled wine and cinnamon and the way he licks into his mouth alone would land both of them on Santa’s naughty list, but Jeno doesn’t care. He loves that duality – Jaemin, a boy as gentle as soft caramel, with the big eyes and the smooth tufts of hair, can be this Jaemin, all sharp smiles and glossy lips, his body curving into lines that spell out very clearly what he wants.

“Are you happy?” Jaemin asks, pulling away. “I want you to be happy.”

“I’m always happy when I’m with you,” Jeno confesses. It’s not even a lie. If he’s with Jaemin things will be alright. If Jaemin is pressed against him so flush that he can feel his hipbones scraping against his own, there’s very little space for negative thoughts.

Jaemin looks a little surprised before he laughs. “Is that so?”

Jeno nods. Jaemin smiles again before pressing another quick open-mouthed kiss to Jeno’s lips. When he pulls back Jeno chases him for another one.

“Want more now, huh?” Jaemin mumbles.

Jeno groans and slaps his shoulder. “You’re such a tease.”

“You like it when I tease you, though.”

“If you keep this up I’ll go home without you.”

Jaemin clings to Jeno, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“True. I wouldn’t.”

Jaemin sighs and pulls back again. “Alright. Let’s go home then.”

“Really?”

“I wasn’t kidding about pulling off that sweater.” Jaemin winks at him. Jeno tries to roll his eyes but he’s too distracted by the way Jaemin’s biting his bottom lip. He doesn’t want to wear this sweater for much longer anyway; it makes his skin itch.

Jaemin grins and pushes his hand into the back pocket of Jeno’s jeans to squeeze his ass, moulding himself into Jeno’s side like he’s done a million times before. “I know you love me.”

“I sure hope you do.”

With the glances Jaemin keeps giving him Jeno can’t get home fast enough.

 

They finally arrive at Jeno’s place, finding most of the mistletoe on the floor. Jeno laughs at Jaemin’s distraught face.

“All my hard work,” Jaemin whines. “My blood, sweat, and tears. For nothing.”

“Aw, come on,” Jeno snickers, tugging on Jaemin’s sleeve. “You knew this would happen.”

Jaemin glares at him, pushing at his shoulders until he has Jeno pressed against the door. “Don’t laugh at me.”

Jeno grins and distracts Jaemin with a slow kiss before flipping them around. Jaemin lets out a breathy sound when his shoulder blades hit the wall.

Jeno leans in to kiss him again but Jaemin gives him a cheeky smile and wraps his arms around his neck. He arches his back off the door to press himself against Jeno, knowing exactly what effect that has on him. He’s always so pliable for Jeno, soft under his hands like he’s melting away, even though it’s Jeno who feels weak in the knees. “Is this how you’re gonna cheer me up? Undress me right here in front of the disaster? Lay me down under all those fairy lights?”

“You’re so… dramatic,” Jeno replies, nipping at Jaemin’s earlobe to hide his blush. Jaemin likes to tease, knows what to say to get a reaction out of Jeno, even when his words are so simple. Jeno doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to Jaemin’s flirty nature, nor does he want to. Even now, with his big Bambi eyes, Jaemin probably looks innocent to other people while Jeno knows it couldn’t be further from the truth.

“You’re taking forever, baby,” Jaemin murmurs and pulls up the hem of Jeno’s sweater. Jeno lifts his arms to make it easier for Jaemin.

Jaemin discards the sweater on the floor and makes a low appreciative noise, running his hands over Jeno’s pecs. “Wearing nothing underneath, naughty. How did I get this lucky?”

Jeno never fails to feel shy under Jaemin’s undivided attention and kisses the words off Jaemin’s lips before he removes his sweater, too.

And it’s not like Jaemin has anything to hide himself. Dancing has made him lithe, has made him strong, has made him flexible – anyone who’s seen him knows how fluidly he can move when he wants to. It drives Jeno crazy sometimes, when Jaemin dances like that just because he knows Jeno’s watching, when he doesn’t break eye contact while he rolls his body as if he’s part snake.

Jeno has never met anyone else who’s so unfairly attractive. On the bright side, though, it’s Jeno only who gets to see him like this, who gets to run his hands over the dips of his spine, who knows what it feels like when Jaemin writhes under his touch, muscles pulling taut and relaxing again. It makes him breathless every time – Jaemin’s effortless beauty, his limitless trust, his willingness to leave behind every bit of shame, every bit of shyness, every last inhibition.

But it’s an equilibrium, Jeno thinks as he presses kisses to the sharp edge of Jaemin’s jaw, because he feels the same. He wants to give himself over to Jaemin, place himself between his palms, certain Jaemin won’t ever abuse that power.

“Baby,” Jaemin pants right into his ear, biting lightly at the shell. “You’re thinking too much. Something wrong?”

Jeno shakes his head. “Just thinking about you.”

Jaemin jumps up, locking his legs around Jeno’s waist. He kisses Jeno deeply, licks into his mouth, and Jeno doesn’t know anymore if he’s drunk on alcohol or just on Jaemin. Every inch of his skin feels hot, like he’s overheating, but that’s nothing against the warmth he’s keeping in his heart.

Jeno groans quietly when Jaemin shifts his weight, hoisting him up a little higher. “Why do I always have to carry you?”

“Because I like it and you’re strong.”

“We go to the gym together. Also you beat me at arm wrestling last time.”

Jaemin sighs and puts his feet back on the floor, turning them around. Jeno finds himself being cornered against the door again, Jaemin’s elbows left and right from his face, leaning in close. “Want me to carry you, then?”

“Why don’t we just walk like nor-“

Jaemin doesn’t listen, just pulls Jeno away from the wall and picks him up bridal style, making a face when he hoists him up. Jeno squeaks and throws his arms around Jaemin’s neck to avoid falling.

“If we slip and die I’m haunting you forever,” Jeno warns, clinging onto Jaemin for dear life.

“I’d never ever drop you, babe,” Jaemin replies, voice a bit strained from the struggle and Jeno giggles. He has to admit there have been worse situations than being pressed to Jaemin’s bare chest, even though Jaemin almost knocks his feet against the threshold when he carries him into his bedroom.

“Oof,” Jaemin says and drops Jeno on the mattress. “Yeah, maybe walking is easier.”

Jeno makes grabby hands for him but Jaemin lightly shakes his head, unbuckling his belt and shimmying out of his jeans. Jeno’s seen this a hundred times before, both in innocent and… less innocent situations, but he never gets used to it. Never gets used to how Jaemin crawls over him now, pulling off Jeno’s own pants with practices ease, his fingers leaving hot trails over his skin. Jaemin leans down, his breath ghosting over Jeno’s Adam’s apple before pressing his lips against it briefly. “I love you, Lee Jeno.”

Jeno sighs contently, brushing his thumb over Jaemin’s cheekbone. He feels his heart beat against the roof of his mouth, always wanting to be closer to Jaemin. “You’re so good to me.” _I love you, too_.

Jaemin smiles and kisses a trail all the way down to Jeno’s bellybutton, so slow and gentle that it’s sending shivers up Jeno’s spine. “I’m about to be even better to you.”

 

***

 

They decide to decorate the little plastic tree the next morning that stands in the corner of the living room. Jaemin wanted a real one but figured Renjun wouldn’t have let him bring it in.

Turns out Renjun is more parts demon than anyone assumed and kicked even this pathetic plastic thing out of their dorm. (Jeno sometimes wishes he had the same resoluteness but all Jaemin had to do was blink at him.)

And it’s really not so bad, Jeno thinks, watching Jaemin put tinsel on the tree in nothing but boxers and an unbuttoned shirt of Jeno’s, his hair still messy. The pale late morning light drenches the room in dull silver, glistening on the baubles and Jaemin’s bare chest.

Jeno knows he’s supposed to help but Jaemin seems to be so invested he doesn’t even notice that Jeno is only watching him.

And Jeno is quite happy just watching.

Jaemin is humming _Hallelujah_ , voice low and still rough from sleep. As always he went completely overboard when buying decorations, disregarding that the tree barely reaches his shoulder. Sometimes Jeno thinks Jaemin only does these things for the process of decorating, not necessarily to make things pretty.  Though, Jeno admits, things do turn out pretty most of the time.

Jaemin spins around to look at Jeno, the shirt fanning out and slipping off of his right shoulder. “Do we want a star or a bow on top?”

Jeno gets up from the couch and fixes Jaemin’s shirt, deliberately brushing his fingers over Jaemin’s collarbone. There are a few faint purple marks left from last night. “What did we have last year?”

“A picture of Troy Bolton. Remember?”

Jeno snorts. He remembers alright. Remembers how they couldn’t decide and then Jaemin said there’s only one star that mattered and Jeno half expected his cheesy ass to come back with a picture of Jeno, but no. He remembers laughing so hard he had to sit down on the floor.

“Why don’t we make that a tradition?” Jeno asks.

Jaemin raises a doubtful eyebrow. “You would want to raise our kids like that? How would they even – oh my god, we’d have to make them watch High School Musical. Educate them properly and everything. But like –“

“Nana _.” Our kids._ Jeno can’t help the fondness from rising in his chest, tugging Jaemin closer by the hips. “We don’t even _have_ kids.”

“Traditions are a commitment, Jen,” Jaemin says quietly. “Traditions are passed on over generations. Are you ready to do that?”

Jeno laughs again. “You’re so weird. If you don’t want that picture of Troy then just choose something else.”

“I never said that.”

“Then why are you so being so difficult?” Jeno prods at Jaemin’s side and he squeaks, jerking out of Jeno’s reach.

“We better print a picture of Troy,” Jaemin says, rubbing his ribs. He’s so pretty, Jeno thinks. So beautiful, standing there half-naked in Jeno’s living room, wearing one of his stupid shirts.

Jaemin returns his attention to the tree but Jeno doesn’t. He walks up to Jaemin and attaches himself to his back, squishes his cheek on his shoulder.

Jeno has always liked back hugs. Has always liked wrapping his arms around Jaemin’s slim waist, breathing him in. Sometimes Jaemin will run his hands over Jeno’s, leaning back against his chest until they’re moulded together. Jaemin’s shoulders are so broad. Dependable. A place to rest his head on when Jeno’s tired.

“Why are you so clingy today?” Jaemin asks, putting another ornament on a branch.

“I don’t know. I just like you so much.”

Jaemin laughs. Jeno feels his shoulders shake and his chest rumble under his touch and it makes him smile, too.

“You’re so cute.”

_You’re the cutest_. Jeno presses a chaste kiss to Jaemin’s nape and lets him go. Jaemin smiles at him but continues decorating tree.

“You’re not going to help at all?” he asks.

Jeno sits back down on the couch and grabs his guitar. “You like it too much.”

Jaemin doesn’t say anything to that, so Jeno tunes his guitar. He plays a few chords after that, something he’s been working on for a while now, for Jaemin. Jaemin doesn’t know that, though. He probably can’t tell it’s even a song Jeno’s written.

When he plays _Hallelujah_ , Jaemin starts humming along again.

 

***

 

“Nana?”

“Hmm?”

“Were you serious about the kids? I mean. That you want some later?”

Jaemin’s eyes are honest and shining when he glances over at Jeno. “At some point, yeah. But only if you do.”

Another promise of a shared future. _I want this with you, some day_.

“Oh.” Jeno smiles.

 

***

 

They spend Christmas Eve with their respective families but meet up on Christmas day at Jeno’s house. A few weeks ago they had both agreed not to buy each other presents but Jeno can’t say he’s surprised to see Jaemin come in with a stack of boxes, one of which is clearly labelled ‘Lee Jeno’.

Jeno himself got Jaemin something, too, after all.

Jaemin laughs about it later, when they’re all sitting in the living room – Jeno’s parents, his sister, his grandparents. Just a room full of people who love each other. Dinner has been eaten and Jeno has been forced to play some Christmas carols on his old guitar and presents have been distributed. The floor is already scattered with ripped wrapping paper and opened boxes. Jeno’s grandfather is helping his wife with the scarf Jeno got her and there’s the Christmas CD playing that Jeno’s mum puts on every year.

Jeno pushes his present over to Jaemin. It’s wrapped in crisp white paper with little silver snowflakes on them. Delicate, just like what’s inside.

Jaemin gives him a knowing smile. “We said we wouldn’t gift each other stuff this year.”

“I guess we both lied.”

“It’s not as much a lie as it is a… second thought,” Jaemin says and hands Jeno his own box. Dark blue. Golden stars. “I couldn’t _not_ get it for you.”

Jaemin opens his gift first. Jeno watches his reaction carefully, watches how he runs his finger under the tape before getting impatient and just ripping the paper. Watches his smile grow when he recognises the Pandora box, brightening when he finally unpacks the silver bracelet.

Jaemin holds it out with a dazzling smile. “Put in on for me?”

Jeno takes the bracelet. He doesn’t know why this feels so significant: it’s just a simple thin silver chain with the round Pandora pendant, a tiny little crystal glinting in the middle of it.

When Jeno fastens the clasp around Jaemin’s slender wrist it feels like he’s making a promise.

“Thank you,” Jaemin says, considering the bracelet with bright eyes, and Jeno has the feeling Jaemin’s thanking him for a lot more than just this present. “I love it.” He looks up. “I love you.”

“I’m glad you like it.” _I love you, too_.

Jaemin leans forward and gives Jeno a quick kiss, sweet and chaste. “Open mine.”

Jeno does as he’s told, slowly folding the paper back without ripping it. His mum likes to collect the undestroyed wrapping and keep it for next year.

Jeno unwraps a set of new guitar strings and two customised guitar picks. One of them is silver, a message engraved in slight cursive. ‘ _May your music never fade out_ ’ it reads.

The other is the colour of nacre, their anniversary stamped on one side, ‘ _I’ll always pick you_ ’ on the other.

“I know it’s not much,” Jaemin says bashfully. “But I –“

“Shut up, I love it,” Jeno interrupts, pulling Jaemin into a hug with one arm. “I love it.”

“Ugh, aren’t they adorable,” Jeno’s sister says.

“They are,” Jaemin’s mother agrees and gets up. “Right. Are you ready for some dessert now?”

 

Jeno drives them over to Jaemin’s childhood home after that to drop Jaemin off and say hi to his family, listening to some Christmas tale on the radio. The both of them are quiet, Jaemin watching the scenery pass by, Jeno concentrating on the streets.

“Jen?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for spending Christmas with me.”

When Jeno glances over Jaemin is playing with the bracelet. “You don’t need to thank me for that.”

“I know, I just – thank you.”

“That’s okay.”

They drive the rest of the way holding hands over the gear stick.

                                    

***

 

It snows.

It surprises Jeno when he gets out of the library, tired and ready to go home to curl up with Jaemin and a movie. He blinks up to the low clouds, snowflakes catching in his eyelashes.

The entire campus is dusted with a thin coating of white powder and it coaxed out those students that stayed over winter break, once again turned into kids by the weather. Just on the short trek from the building to the side exit of the campus, Jeno counts at least four snowball fights and just as many snowmen.

Jaemin is waiting at the exit. He’s wearing a ridiculous purple beanie with a yellow bobble on it, one of Jeno’s thick scarfs wrapped around his neck, leaving only the upper half of his face visible. His eyes curve into happy crescents when he spots Jeno walking towards him.

“Figured I’d come pick you up in this amazing weather,” Jaemin explains when Jeno reaches him, uncurling the scarf to reveal another one underneath. He wraps the first one around Jeno, then pulls him in with it for a kiss.

“I wouldn’t call this amazing,” Jeno gives back.

Jaemin rolls his eyes. “Open your eyes to the beauty of winter. I’ll show you. Let’s have a snowball fight!”

“Nana, please n-“

Too late. Jeno gets a face full of snow, some flakes of it melting on his skin as little pinpricks of cold. Jaemin looks like he’s surprised himself before he laughs and quickly skips out of Jeno’s reach.

Two can play this game.

Jeno collects as much snow as he can from the top of the gate even though it freezes off his fingers, following Jaemin back onto campus. The ground is too slippery for any of them to run and it probably looks ridiculous how they’re chasing each other by slithering over the pavement, but Jeno finds himself laughing without a care in the world. He’s eventually in comfortable throwing distance and hits the back of Jaemin’s head. Jaemin screeches, pulling his shoulders up when some of the snow slips into the collar of his jacket. “You did _not_ just do that!”

Jeno is too busy wheezing to apologise, catching himself only when Jaemin slides towards him with malicious intent, bunching up more snow in his hands.

“I’ve seen it now,” Jeno calls, backing up as fast as he dares. “The beauty of winter. We can stop now!”

“Oh, you wish,” Jaemin says and throws. Jeno just so manages to slap the ball out of the air, showering himself with even more snowflakes than are already falling.

Jaemin laughs, distracted for a moment too long. Jeno barrels towards him and Jaemin cries out when he catches him around the waist, picking him up.

“Let go of me, you demon,” Jaemin exclaims, still giggling, hitting Jeno’s arms repeatedly. Jeno does, only because it was putting a strain on his back and Jaemin yelps as he slips on the slush, pulling Jeno down with him. It all happens too fast, knocking the breath straight out of Jeno’s chest as he hits the pavement.

“Oof,” Jaemin says and grins at Jeno. “Broke anything?”

“Don’t think so,” Jeno laughs, slowly untangling his limbs. “You good?”

Jaemin rolls himself on top of Jeno. “Never been better.”

The melted snow is seeping through Jeno’s jeans and his hands have lost all sensation but with Jaemin smiling at him like that, Jeno is inclined to agree.

“You’ll get sick if we stay like this,” he says anyway. Jaemin rolls his eyes with a huff and gets up, holding out his hand to help Jeno.

“What would I do without you?”

“You’d die of hypothermia. _Fuck_ , it’s cold.”

Jaemin takes Jeno’s hands and lifts them to his mouth to blow his hot breath on their frozen fingers, rubbing some life back into them. “You know, I always thought you looked like winter. With your dark hair and pale skin and your moon smile. Paler than me, anyway.”

“You don’t think that anymore?”

“Hm. I think you’re too warm for that. Too warm and too soft and I love you way too much.”

Jeno wants to ask what that has to do with anything but Jaemin kisses him then, the tip of his nose cold against Jeno’s cheek, but everything else warm.

 

***

 

Jaemin has bad days, too, but they look different. Jeno gets him out of the house then, looks up things to distract him because on those days Jaemin can’t stay in his room.

Contrary to popular belief, Jaemin isn’t actually just a soft, flawlessly kind boy. No, Jaemin has faults. He’s peculiar to an almost neurotic extend, needs things to be done in a certain way without snapping at people and he holds grudges like no other.

But it just so happens that Jaemin’s idiosyncrasies are compatible with Jeno’s and they’re therefore less of a problem.

Of course they get annoyed with each other. Jeno honestly thought Jaemin would break up with him when he accidentally spilled water on his MacBook. In certain situations he wishes Jaemin was a little less childish and sometimes his words are so biting they cut a little too deep.

But all those flaws are a flip coin: Jaemin’s general pettiness comes from a place of thoughtfulness and sensitivity, his childlike joy makes Jeno laugh so hard he can’t breathe, and his words stem from eloquence and a demand for honesty that Jeno appreciates.

He knows not everyone could deal with Jaemin the way he does. Donghyuck often tells him he’s too forgiving or just incredibly whipped but Jeno has given up trying to explain how Jaemin and he balance each other out. Jeno doesn’t mind Jaemin’s flaws the same way Jaemin doesn’t mind Jeno’s. They are a puzzle that has clicked into place, unshakable now that they’re completed.

Jeno is pretty sure that this is the once in a life time kind of love. The forever kind. None of his past relationships have made him feel like this and whenever he looks at Jaemin – he just _knows_. That this is the person he’s going to end up marrying. This is the person he wants to wake up to every morning and go to sleep with every night. The person he wants by his side, no matter what life may throw their way.

He wants it all. With Jaemin.

“What are you thinking about?” Jaemin asks. He looks a little down, has exhausted himself by letting his thoughts run in circles before Jeno finally got him out of the house.

Jeno doesn’t know how to voice all these things when he can barely say ‘I love you’ back, so he just takes Jaemin’s hand, sliding his fingers into the spaces between his, hoping he gets the message across.

Jaemin’s hand is cold. The snow has vanished, leaving a biting frost behind, and even though they’re both bundled up in their warmest coats for a spontaneous walk in the park Jeno feels like his nose is about to fall off. The tip of Jaemin’s own nose is red and adorable and Jeno can’t help the urge to boob it.

Jaemin smiles a little. “Are you being sappy?”

“You know me too well,” Jeno says.

“It’s better that way. No lies. No secrets.”

Jeno nods and stays quiet.

He can’t get it out of his head now. The future. _Their_ future.

They already know that once Jaemin’s lease runs out they’ll go looking for a new place together. That’s the logical next step in their relationship, except now that Jeno has thought about marrying Jaemin he can’t stop. He thinks of what it would be like to see a simple engagement ring glinting on Jaemin’s finger. Wonders if Jaemin would cry if he proposed.

He knows they’re both still pretty young, not even finished with university. He knows people look at college relationships with a sceptical eye but people don’t know the magnitude of what Jeno feels. They don’t know the sense of certainty he has whenever he sees Jaemin chilling on his couch. Jeno figures he was just extremely lucky to find his significant other so early.

So why wait? Jeno doesn’t care if it takes them two, five, fifteen years until they get their wedding. All he wants is to show Jaemin that he wants this – wants _him_ – for the rest of his life.

“You’re making me nervous,” Jaemin says but he’s smiling. Jeno can’t help but grin back at him, giddy and drunk on love. He wants to shout it from the rooftops and whisper it in Jaemin’s ear and kiss it into his skin and write it on the moon. _I love you I love you I love you_.

“Good,” Jeno says. “You should be nervous. I’m your crush after all.”

Before Jaemin can reply Jeno lets go of his hand and skips ahead. Jaemin laughs and follows him and then they’re running like children, ruffling the few crunchy leaves that haven’t yet been blown away by the winter wind.

Jaemin keeps him young. He gives him freedom. He completes him in a way nothing else has ever done.

“Jen,” Jaemin calls, tugging on Jeno’s sleeve. “Baby, stop.”

Jeno does, lets Jaemin spin him around. His face is flushed and he’s out of breath but he looks happier than before, which is all Jeno could have asked for.

“My face is so cold it’s about to fall off,” Jaemin complains.

Jeno laughs. “Same. I can’t feel my toes, either. Wanna get coffee?”

Jeno takes Jaemin’s hand again, stuffing it in the warm pocket of his coat.

“You know you’re more than a crush, right?” Jaemin asks, jostling his shoulder against Jeno’s.

“Oh? What am I then?”

Jeno fondly watches a blush creep into Jaemin’s cheeks that has nothing to do with the cold. “You’re... my ever after. My happy ending, except it’s not the end.”

“You’re so sappy.”

Jaemin pushes Jeno away with a huff. “Or maybe not.”

Jeno laughs, pulling Jaemin close again. Jaemin pouts but lets Jeno link their fingers back together anyway.

“Your ever after, hm?” Jeno says quietly. “Sounds good to me.”

 

***

 

“ _Wear something fancy_ ,” Jaemin tells him on the phone. “ _Like, that white shirt with the silver highlights and a blazer or something. I’ll pick you up at six and we, uh, might use your car_.”

“Where are we going?” Jeno asks. He looks at the calendar that hangs in his kitchen, checking to see if he’s missed any anniversaries. He hasn’t.

“ _It’s a surprise_ ,” Jaemin sing-songs. Jeno can tell he’s excited about it. “ _Just be ready at six_.”

“Alr-“

Jaemin already hung up.

 

Jaemin shows up at six sharp, dressed in his best suit, hair styled away from his forehead. When Jeno goes to hug him, he smells like the expensive cologne he’d got from his mother last Christmas, and he hands Jeno a single yellow flower.

“What’s all this about?” Jeno asks. He can’t keep the giddy smile off his face. Jaemin is radiating a kind of happiness that is contagious, even though Jeno doesn’t know the cause.

“Patience, baby,” Jaemin says. He closes Jeno’s fingers around the stem of the flower. “A daffodil. They symbolise new beginnings. You know, since it’s almost New Year’s…”

“Is that why we’re going out?” Jeno raises his eyebrows. “Because it’s _almost_ the new year?”

Jaemin grins blindingly. “Give me your car keys and you shall find out.”

 

Jaemin drives them to a French-looking restaurant whose name Jeno can’t even dream of ever pronouncing correctly. They get their coats taken off and then led to the dining room. Jeno can’t keep himself from staring at the beautiful arched ceiling, the detailed flowers that have been carved into the stone probably centuries ago. The entire hall is illuminated in soft light, tasteful winter decorations emphasising that Christmas has just passed without making it look tacky.

The people who are dining here look just as rich as this environment suggests. Even in their best clothing Jeno and Jaemin stand out, by far the youngest couple apart from a set of children in white dresses and tiny tuxedos.

Jeno feels like he’ll be charged just by breathing in the perfectly air-conditioned oxygen.

One of those candleholders could probably pay off his tuition.

“How the hell can you afford this?” Jeno mutters, leaning close to Jaemin, so the waitress they’re following won’t hear them.

“I can’t but apparently my grandma can,” Jaemin whispers back.

The waitress leads them to a table for two and takes their drink choices. Jeno is about to ask for a glass of tab water but Jaemin cuts in, ordering _champagne_.

“Have you gone insane?” Jeno asks once the waitress is gone. Even the table cloth is finer material than any of the clothes Jeno calls his own.

Jaemin grins at him and reaches for his hand. “Let me treat you like the prince that you are for once.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Just happy.”

“But why are you so happy?”

“Can’t I just be glad that I get to take my boyfriend out for some excellent food?”

Jeno regards him with suspicion. Jaemin is practically glowing, looking extremely pleased with himself and not at all as awkward as Jeno feels. Really, he looks like he does this every day. Jaemin has the face and the fashion sense to pass as a rich kid and it kind of makes Jeno want to work hard just so he could give this kind of life to him later.

“There’s something you’re not saying,” Jeno complains. “What happened to no secrets?”

“We have to wait for the champagne at least,” Jaemin tells him.

Jeno is a little nervous. Jaemin’s joy makes him feel fluttery inside, like he’s supposed to be happy too.

The waitress comes back with their drinks and a basket of fresh bread. Like, _actual_ bread. Not the cardboard stuff you get anywhere else. It tastes amazing.

“Right,” Jaemin says, lifting his glass. “To us.”

Jeno clinks his own glass against his carefully. “Dunno what this is for but I guess.”

“Oh come on.” Jaemin snorts.

“Fine. To us.”

Jeno only ever had champagne once before and back then he thought it was terribly overrated but maybe that’s because it was a cheap one. This – this stuff is better, like sparkles in a glass. A prickly feeling bottled up. Goosebumps preserved in liquid.

Or maybe that’s just Jaemin.

“So,” Jaemin starts. His eyes are twinkling with poorly restrained excitement. “I may or may not have cancelled my lease. I don’t care about the fee, I’m just sick of not living with you and I really don’t want to wait anymore and I may or may not have started looking for places already – Renjun was a bit pissed but he’ll be fine, I’m sure –“

“Wait,” Jeno interrupts, trying to process what Jaemin just said. “You – you want to move out? In the middle of term?”

Jaemin looks a little flustered. “We still have a year left until graduation. I don’t want to wait until then. I want – I want that experience with you. The terrible student housing. Watching romcoms at three am when we’re both procrastinating. Doing our laundry together. It’s not like we spend a lot of time by ourselves anyway and we could still have our own rooms if you want that, I just. That one drawer I have at your place really isn’t enough and I just _really_ want to live with you. If that’s what you want.”

“You know I do.” Jeno can’t believe this is happening. Jaemin cancelled his contract for him. He’s ditching Renjun for him. Has started looking for a place that will be just _theirs_.

Jeno puts his hand on the table, palm up, until Jaemin places his own in it. “I – I don’t know what to say.”

“I know it’s maybe a little impulsive,” Jaemin says. “But why wait when we both know it’s what we want?”

_Why wait?_

Jeno smiles at him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop again, will ever stop loving this boy who’s sitting across from him, the one who does stupid crazy things just because he’s impatient. “I can’t wait to fight over IKEA furniture with you.”

Jaemin huffs out a laugh and Jeno realises he’s a little teary-eyed.

“Hey, Nana.”

Jaemin gestures around with his other hand, blinking up at the beautiful stucco ceiling with too bright eyes. “I just – I’m so happy. I’m _so happy_ , Jeno, I never thought I’d get to feel like this. You make me happy. And I can’t wait for this. For whatever the future brings as long as it’s with you.”

“I –“ Jeno is stunned. By Jaemin’s honesty, his words, the fact that he means them. He has to swallow before he can say anything else. “I love you, Jaemin.”

Jaemin sniffles and smiles at him, holding his hand a little tighter.

 

As it turns out, none of them like French food. Jaemin calls it pretentious and weird and they decide to leave after the starters and another round of wine.

“McDonald’s will always be our place after all,” Jaemin says, leaning back into the seat of the taxi. None of them had thought it through when they ordered more wine, having to leave Jeno’s car behind in its parking spot.

“We really are students, huh,” Jeno whines. “The only amazing thing was the bread.”

“I’ll learn how to make it for you,” Jaemin says.

They’re quiet for a moment. Jaemin scoots closer to rest his head on Jeno’s shoulder.

“Can you imagine that?” Jaemin asks softly. “In a few years, when we might have our own house? We’d have a bigger kitchen with like, a kitchen aid and a working oven and I’d make you fancy French bread for special occasions.”

“You wouldn’t have to make anything fancy,” Jeno mutters. “You know I eat everything you make.”

“For you I’d do it anyway.”

Jeno kisses the top of Jaemin’s head.

 

This is so much better, Jeno thinks, watching Jaemin dip fries into Jeno’s vanilla milkshake in the booth across from him, blatantly ignoring his lactose intolerance and still in his suit. His tie is pulled loose, the top button of his shirt popped, hair a bit messy from running his fingers through it too often, but he still takes Jeno’s breath away.

“What?” Jaemin asks without looking up.

Jeno reaches forward and steals a fry from Jaemin. “Can we get some houseplants for our place?”

Jaemin smiles up at him, hearing the unspoken _I love you_. “We can get all the plants you want, love.”

_I love you, too._

 

***

 

They decide to stay in and celebrate New Year’s by themselves, just the two of them. Renjun calls them an old married couple for that but it just makes Jeno smile. Renjun will get it one day.

They do visit Mark’s party just to say hi to all their friends and steal some of the amazing appetizers that Hyuck made, but by the time it’s close to midnight they’re in Jaemin’s apartment, sitting in the living room with the lights off.

Living on the eleventh floor means a pretty good view over the town and the fireworks that are due in a few minutes. Jeno has already got the sparkling wine ready, served in mismatched coffee mugs since nothing else was clean, a countdown playing on the TV.

“Last chance to write down some new year’s resolutions,” Jaemin tells him, folding the note he’d been scribbling on for the past few minutes.

“I don’t need to write them down,” Jeno answers. “I already know the biggest one will come true.”

“Which is…?”

“Moving in with you.”

Jaemin grins at him. “I wrote that down, too.”

When there are only a few seconds left Jeno mutes the TV and settles in front of Jaemin who’s looking at him with cheerful anticipation. “Na Jaemin. Will you be my new year’s kiss?”

“This year,” Jaemin says quietly, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Jeno’s. “And every year after.”

They kiss when the last seconds are counted down. They kiss when in the town below them hundreds of fireworks are set off simultaneously, exploding in the sky in colours so brilliant they are blinding. They kiss while all over this time zone people are hugging and making promises and wishing each other luck for the new year, looking toward the future with hopeful eyes.

“This year will be our best one yet,” Jaemin says with conviction, eyes closed, his eyelashes casting gentle shadows over his cheeks.

Oh, Jeno has no doubts about that at all. All his worries and all his fears are pushed back, leaving only the light that is Na Jaemin. The fireworks have nothing on him with the way he smiles.

Just then, when Jaemin links his pinkie with Jeno’s, he quietly adds another resolution to the short list in his head: _ask him to marry me._

 

***

 

Turns out apartment hunting in the middle of term is actually pretty stressful. They only have a few weeks left before Jaemin’s cancellation goes into effect and he gets kicked out, and Jeno is already worrying about how to store Jaemin’s ten million clothes in his tiny place until they find something else.

Plus they both have their own schedules and responsibilities: lectures and seminars, band practice, gym subscription, presentations, job interviews, family. Their friends help them search for fitting flats and they squeeze in viewings whenever they can.

Jeno reminds Jaemin they’ll probably move again once they’re both finished with uni anyway, tells him it doesn’t need to be perfect, but he remains picky.

Jeno understands it, though. He’d like to have a kitchen that is not a health hazard, too. It’s honestly incredible what kinds of flats are offered for students to live in and Jeno absently wonders if all of that is legal.  

One clear January noon they find themselves in front of a building not too far off from campus. There’s a little tree growing in front of it, stripped down from winter.

It’s the second viewing today and the sixth this week and they’re both a little over it by now.

Jaemin takes Jeno’s hand. “Looks good from the outside?”

Jeno hums in agreement. He doesn’t want to dampen Jaemin’s quiet optimism.

 

The landlord doesn’t arrive much later, hurriedly unlocking the door to get them out of the cold and leading them up a flight of stairs.

“This could be your new home,” she says and opens the door.

The moment Jeno steps in, he knows it’s theirs. They both do. They’re standing in what must be the entrance hallway, linoleum floor cold and empty under their feet, the white walls illuminated by the bare light bulb on the ceiling and a small window at the far side. It’s everything. Everything.

Jeno exchanges a quick glance with Jaemin. Jaemin smiles and squeezes his hand.

He prays to every deity that there are no holes in the walls, no no-go’s, no pricy renovation costs because the way Jaemin is looking at the rooms as they’re led through them – this is it. It has to be this one.

They end up in the open kitchen. Through the window Jeno can see the little tree, skeleton twigs swaying gently in the breeze, imagining what it would look like in the spring.

Jaemin turns to look at the landlord with a brilliant smile, running his hand over the grey-speckled counter. “We’ll take it.”

 

***

 

“I can’t believe we’re living together,” Jaemin says, swirling the can of beer he’s holding.

They’re both sitting on the bare floor of their new living room, surrounded by cardboard boxes and still-packed IKEA furniture, a mixture of donations from family and friends, and purchases from their own funds.

The rest of the band had come over to help bring stuff in, stayed for pizza, and then vanished to leave them with the aftermath. After finding this apartment everything had happened so fast – signing contracts, changing addresses on official papers, packing up their college lives in boxes and carrying them into a different space. The next chapter. A new beginning. Another yellow daffodil in the vase on the kitchen table.

“Unpacking is going to take forever,” Jeno whines.

Jaemin gets up and extends his hand to Jeno, his smile a sunrise. “Not if we start now.”

 

***

 

It’s a crisp March Sunday and the late morning sun is sneaking its rays through the window, so bright that Jeno can see the little dust particles that are always dancing in the air, sees how some of them catch on Jaemin’s eyelashes.

They’ve only recently finished putting everything in place. Some of the furniture still smells new, other places like one corner of their bedroom is still cluttered, but all things considered it looks like a home now. Like their home. They painted some walls and even had to borrow (and master) some power tools to get a new shelf up in the living room. The hardest part of that was Jaemin insisting he could do it alone, ending up with a broken nail and a scrape to his pride when he eventually accepted Jeno’s help.

(Jeno wishes that would have taught Jaemin a lesson but Jaemin’s stubborn to a fault with very little hope for improvement.)

After the rough stuff was done, Jaemin put up pictures of them in the kitchen and Jeno got himself a bunch of houseplants that he named after anime characters. Jaemin tells him they’ll probably be dead by next month but Jeno is a devoted man; he won’t let that happen. He actually enjoys taking care of them. Maybe someday they can have a little garden…

Jeno smiles at the thought. Jaemin would like that, watching Jeno do all the work in the flowerbed while he chills on a garden chair, basking in the sun like some kind of reptile. Making crude comments until Jeno chases him with the hose and grubby hands.

But even if they never get their garden they’ll be alright, Jeno thinks. As long as they have each other, they’ll be fine.

Jeno loves living with Jaemin. Loves sharing a space with him like this, waking up to him every day, even when Jaemin is disgruntled and whiny and he always makes them late. He loves the spontaneous board game evenings when they can’t decide what to watch on Netflix. Loves the slow morning sex, loves seeing his toothbrush next to Jaemin’s, loves doing things by himself knowing Jaemin is somewhere in his proximity.

Sure, the shower knob keeps falling off and maybe managing the bills is still annoying and Jaemin forgets to do the dishes just as often as Jeno forgets to take out the trash – but it works. It works for them.

This is probably one of Jeno’s favourite things about it all: the lazy weekends where none of them want to move. Watching terrible movies on TV just to make fun of the occasional awkward line, not really paying attention otherwise.

Right now, he’s sitting on the couch with Jaemin’s head on his lap, running his fingers through his soft brunette hair. There are two steaming cups of coffee on the table that Jeno is resting his feet on and everything is quiet.

Jaemin is reading something on his iPad, the tab of his thumb interrupting the silence every so often. “Are you hungry?”

“I could eat,” Jeno says, pushing a strand away from Jaemin’s forehead. “Are you?”

“Kind of. Wanna order something?”

Jeno glances at the screen of Jaemin’s iPad and grins. He’s already pulled up the website of their favourite pizza place. “It’s one of those days, huh?”

Jaemin hums and turns his head a little, kissing the centre of Jeno’s palm. “One of those days.”

 

***

 

Jeno is sitting in the cafeteria with some of his band members when he blurts out, “Do you think it’s too soon to propose to Jaemin?”

Several things happen so fast that Jeno can’t tell what’s first.

Hyuck shrieks. Mark chokes on his rice. Renjun slams his glass down so hard it shatters, making Jeno jump so violently he accidentally flings his fork away, hitting an innocent girl at the next table.

When Jeno comes back from apologising to her, face red, Hyuck just finishes giving Mark the Heimlich manoeuvre and Renjun is cursing at the shards.

“Sorry for the surprise,” Jeno says bashfully, folding his hands.

“Wait.” Hyuck squints at him. “You’re serious?”

Jeno shrugs. “Why not?”

“You’ve been together for like, two years,” Renjun reminds him.

“Exactly.”

“Actually…” Mark starts and coughs again. The others stare at him and he throws his hands up in defence. “Have any of you ever seen two people who were more like actual soulmates than Jeno and Jaemin?!”

Hyuck gasps, visibly offended. “Um, have you seen _us_? We’ve been together for _four years_ and I’ve known you my _entire_ life and yet you don’t seem to be thinking about proposing to me!”

Mark flushes a deep red, refusing to look anywhere near his boyfriend. “Why do _I_ have to be the one to propose? You can do it too if you want to get hitched so badly!”

“Congrats, Jeno,” Renjun snickers. “You just broke up a couple.”

“You guys are useless. I asked for actual advice, you know?” Jeno complains.

A round of unsure mumbling.

“Fine,” Renjun says. “Let’s say we approve. But remember you’re in uni. Can you even afford an engagement ring?”

“I scraped some money together,” Jeno says. Now that it’s becoming a real possibility the nerves are kicking in, making his stomach feel like its housing a very active electric eel. “But – do you think he’d say yes?”

“Oh sweetie,” Hyuck says. “He loves you too much to ever say no to you.”

Renjun scoffs. “Is that your only worry? That he’d say no?”

Jeno shrugs helplessly and Renjun laughs again.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Mark soothes him.

“Actually it makes sense for you and Jaem to get engaged first,” Hyuck admits. “You have that whole… vibe going on. Like, nothing can come between you two. Your PDA is by far the worst and for the first six months I thought I’d never see you again and really –”

“I guess I’ll do it then,” Jeno says to the table surface.

“But how are you going to do it? It’s Jaemin after all.”

“Um.” Jeno looks up at three faces with varying expressions of expectation. “I haven’t really thought about that yet.”

Hyuck makes a dramatic gesture to himself. “If you want help, you have my number.”

“Yeah, maybe not…”

“Can I come with you when you go pick out a ring? You need someone with a sense of aesthetics.”

“ _Aesthetics_? You’re wearing plaid _and_ a denim jacket. You look like you live in the woods.”

“Renjun, I swear to god –“

Jeno sighs heavily, burying his head in his hands. He should have kept this to himself.

 

***

 

Words are hard for Jeno. He doesn’t remember how he ever thought he could do this, turning the thin silver ring over and over and _over_ in his hands.

He’s been carrying it around for a week now, ever since he spotted it in the shop window on a spontaneous stroll in the city. He’d seen it, seen the way it glinted even in the numb February daylight, thought about how it would look on Jaemin’s beautiful hand –

He’d gone in despite Renjun’s annoyed protests, had gone in and spent most of his savings on a ring that Jaemin will only wear until it’s replaced by the wedding band, had bought it anyway. Kept it in a tiny satin box. Carried it around.

Stared at it for hours, wondering when the right words would come to him.

It’s simple. Plain silver, no diamond, relatively thin. Jaemin likes minimalistic things and even though this ring seems basic it has a shiny cutting and Jeno had their anniversary engraved on the inside, along with the word ‘home’. Because that’s what they are – each other’s home.

Sometimes he thinks about letting Jaemin catch him with it. It would be so easy; Jaemin is curious by nature and a sucker for jewellery, would immediately zero in on whatever silvery thing Jeno’s holding like a magpie and that would be it.

But no. Jaemin deserves better. Jaemin deserves it all: the flash mob, the white doves, the red blossoms on the floor leading him to where Jeno would be waiting, down on one knee in his best suit, little satin box propped open.

Hyuck would sing. All their friends would be there to sprinkle them with petals. Their mothers would cry.

Jaemin would stand in front of him, pressing one hand to his mouth, and say yes.

Jeno sighs. He doesn’t know how much of that he can actually give Jaemin, seeing how he isn’t even brave enough to say four simple words.

It’s almost a throwback to a time when Jeno desperately wanted to confess to Jaemin, needed to tell him how he felt, practiced the words in front of the bathroom mirror at five in the morning because it didn’t let him sleep, only to end up mute the minute he faced Jaemin. He couldn’t say it. Couldn’t say it even after Jaemin confessed first.

The first ‘I love you’ seems like such a small step in comparison to this.

Jaemin has never blamed him. Has never gotten impatient, or mad. Jeno likes to think he hears it through his actions but still – in moments like this he wishes he had Jaemin’s finesse with words. Jaemin would definitely have less problems with making up a speech about how much he loved Jeno, but Jeno is going to _do_ this, because he loves Jaemin more than anything.

He can do this, he’s sure. He wants this.

This ring is too pretty to be kept in a box anyway.

 

Jeno ends up sitting at Jaemin’s mother’s table, carefully placing the small satin box in the centre of it, feeling a little like he’s laying down his heart there instead.

It takes her a moment to realise what it is but when she does, her eyes grow wide.

She gasps a little, gently opening the box to look at the engagement ring, jaw slack. “Jeno, is this –“

Jeno nods, cheeks burning. “I’m going to ask Jaemin to – um. To marry me. But I wanted to ask for your blessing first.”

She looks up again and Jeno thinks he knows exactly what she sees.

A twenty-three year-old, still green behind the ears but with dreams so big they don’t fit into his hands.

A boy who knows nothing about life, nothing about what it means to be married, who has no clue of the struggles he’ll have to face in the future, no clue of how hard it is to share a life with someone, no matter how much you love them.

Just a boy, asking for a future with the wonderful young man that she’d raised all by herself.

Jeno knows it sounds crazy but he’s never been so sure about anything in his life. He wants that future with Jaemin. Wants to treat him right. Love him even through the darkest times. He’s known it ever since he ran into Jaemin at the economics shelf on the third floor of the library. It wasn’t love at first sight but it was – a tug in his guts. A spark. An ‘ _Oh. I wonder who this is’_.

Jaemin had felt it, too, or he wouldn’t have asked Jeno for his name. They’d ended up sitting in the library until they got kicked out, then sat outside of it until way into the night, talking, always asking more questions, giving more answers, jumping from topic to topic – _I have to know you_.

Jeno never found the book he’d been looking for that day but he’d found something much more precious.

It’s been two and a half years and maybe that doesn’t seem like long enough to other people but Jeno knows he’ll never stop feeling this way. Jaemin is his endgame in any reality he can imagine and he wants to make this real – that silver band, on Jaemin’s finger, a promise to grow old with him.

“Oh Jeno,” Mrs Na breathes. She reaches out and cups Jeno’s face with her calloused hands, eyes sparkly with unshed tears. “It would be an honour to have you as my son-in-law.”

 

***

 

Jeno schemes. He orders a ton of roses. Asks the university’s dance crew if they could perform something. Makes band practices extra-long after finally deciding on a song. Writes a letter, and rewrites it and rewrites it _again_ until he thinks he’s finally saying what he wants.

And then, when it’s finally D-day, Jeno wakes up to a shivering Jaemin, who’s running a fever so high it feels like he’s burning away right under Jeno’s cool hands.

“Baby…”

Jaemin groans, runs his hand over his face. “Jen, I don’t feel good.”

“Stay in bed,” Jeno tells him. “I’ll get you some meds and then you can sleep some more, okay?”

“What about your lecture?”

Jeno leans down and kisses Jaemin’s forehead. His skin is hot and sweaty. “I have priorities.”

He never planned on going to that lecture anyway.

 

Jeno calls Hyuck while he waits for the kettle. “Nana’s sick.”

“ _WHAT_!” Hyuck screeches. “ _How in the – why today?! Why_ now _? Oh my god, I’m going to kill you, Na Jaemin, I’ve planned this down to the second and he dares_ –“

“Ahem,” Jeno interrupts. “It’s not his fault and I’ll have you know that if you hurt him you’ll be very sorry.”

“ _This is so frustrating! How are you so chill about this_?”

That is a good question. With a very simple answer.

“Because I love him. He should get to enjoy it when I – it’s not like I won’t get any other opportunities. Oh, the water’s done, talk to you later!”

Jeno finishes making the tea, grabs a few things out of their medicine cabinet in the bathroom and brings them to Jaemin. He appears to be asleep but cracks an eye open when Jeno sets the cup down on the nightstand.

“Thanks,” Jaemin croaks, grabbing the paracetamol. “I hate how these things just catch me off guard.”

“Don’t talk so much. Just rest. Do you need anything else?”

Jaemin drops back into the pillows. “You’re so sweet.”

Jeno waits a bit longer, tugs the blankets up when Jaemin’s drifted off again.

Of course he’s a little disappointed. Of course he’d rather have breakfast with Jaemin now before taking him to the park where everyone would be waiting. Even the weather is playing along; sunny, as warm as it gets in April.

But if Jeno was prepared today, he’ll be prepared tomorrow. He can wait. For Jaemin, he’ll wait.

 

Sometime around late noon Jaemin emerges from the bedroom, face rumpled and very pale, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Jeno is standing at the stove, trying to make porridge without burning down their apartment.

“You look terrible,” Jeno says. “How are you feeling?”

“Sick,” Jaemin replies, sinking into one of the kitchen chairs.

“Want me to bring you to the doc?”

Jaemin shakes his head lightly. “It’s just a fever. I just want to move as little as possible and maybe binge-watch something with you.”

“Go sit in the living room then.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Nana.”

“What.”

Jeno turns away from the stove and cups Jaemin’s face in his hands. Jaemin leans into the touch, sighing in relief, his own hands coming up to circle Jeno’s wrists.

“You’re burning,” Jeno says. “You should rest.”

“Come and rest with me, then. On a separate couch so I won’t get you sick, too.”

“I literally don’t care,” Jeno says and pulls away. Jaemin only lets him go reluctantly. “Go. Living room. Now. I’ll follow with the porridge.”

 

This isn’t how Jeno thought today would go. Jaemin passed out on his chest half an hour ago, on the third episode of Naruto, fingers loosely twisted into Jeno’s shirt. Jeno can feel his soft breath on his collarbone, his hair tickling his chin, but he doesn’t mind. He just wants Jaemin to feel better soon.

Carding his fingers through the soft strands in Jaemin’s nape, he thinks of the roses he never got to pick up. Thinks of all their friends who were left waiting. Thinks of the dance crew and the band and how he’d given his guitar to Mark yesterday, so Jeno wouldn’t have to suspiciously carry it around. He thinks of the handwritten letter he has tucked into the pocket of his sweats, folded and unfolded a hundred times.

He thinks about how it’s somehow turned into a main event for so many people instead of something that was just for Jaemin.

All of this is just for Jaemin. Because he loves Jaemin, more than anything in the world.

Maybe the flash mob and the rose petals aren’t what’s going to make this special. Jeno knows Jaemin is a sucker for romantic gestures but Jeno also knows that Jaemin likes to be the one making them.

And it’s not very Jeno to propose in the middle of the park while twenty other people are holding their breath. It’s not very _them_.

He sighs, buries his nose in the crown of Jaemin’s head. He smells like camomile tea and sweat and Jeno shouldn’t snuggle him like this when he wants to stay healthy but he doesn’t _care_ – he wants to hold Jaemin like this forever. Like they’re made to be like this. In each other’s arms.

Maybe if Jaemin was awake, Jeno would just ask him now. Would say something like ‘we should get married’ and Jaemin would laugh it off before realising that Jeno meant it. Maybe Jaemin would say ‘yeah, we should’ and that would be the story Jeno would tell for the rest of his life.

But Jaemin isn’t awake. Jeno isn’t for much longer, either, lulled to sleep by Jaemin’s body warmth and his quiet steady breaths.

 

Jaemin is in the kitchen when Jeno wakes up, chopping spring onions with a scarf draped around his neck.

“Hey,” Jeno says, snaking his arms around his waist to look over his shoulder. “Feeling better?”

Jaemin leans back against his chest. “A bit. I felt like making omelette. That okay with you?”

“Sure. You want me to do this? You’re sick, you should be resting.” Jeno presses a kiss to the edge of Jaemin’s jaw and Jaemin smiles.

“The only good thing about being sick is that you baby me.”

“I’m not babying you. I’m nursing you back to health.”

“Call it whatever you want. I think it’s sweet.”

“I just hate seeing you like this.”

“I know.”

“Let me finish this?”

Jaemin snorts. “Never. You’re going to burn the house down and I’ll survive ten minutes at the stove. Set the table instead.”

“Okay,” Jeno says but they stay like this for another minute, leaning against each other.

 

***

 

“ _Where are you_?”

Jeno sighs into his phone. “In the parking lot. They’ve made me stay longer and I had to close up and I swear, people get ruder every day, I just – sorry about this. I should be home in an hour or so.”

“ _Did you have terrible customers again_?”

“Someone threatened to throw their coffee at me. Another one said I’m so slow the coffee would be cold by the time I give her the cup. Do you know how goddamn hot that coffee is? I hope she burned her tongue.”

Jaemin chuckles on the other end. “ _Just get home safely so we can eat and then I’ll make you relax._ ”

“You can eat without me. Traffic’s going to be crazy.”

“ _No way. I’m making you egg-fried rice_.”

“Ugh. You’re the best.”

“ _I know. Get here soon, yeah? I love you_.”

 

When Jeno comes home, the living room has changed.

There is a pillow fort stretching over their couches. A _gigantic_ pillow fort. Jeno is pretty sure Jaemin used every blanket and every pillow he could find to make this – there’re even fairy lights if Jeno can tell correctly from the glow.

Soft hands sneak around his waist, pulling him back against a warm chest.

“Nana,” Jeno says. What he means is ‘I love you’. He feels like he’s going to cry, pressure building behind his eyes, the stress from today falling off his shoulders just with Jaemin’s touch.

“Go change into your PJs,” Jaemin says softly. “Then come join me in there for some soul soothing.”

Jeno does as he’s told. The pillow fort looks incredible when he crawls inside, the string lights illuminating a surprisingly big space. Jeno fits comfortably beside Jaemin, who’s waiting with a plate of rice and a pair of chopsticks, leaned back against the plush cushions. Jeno kisses him on the cheek before he takes the food.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jaemin asks, rubbing circles onto Jeno’s knee.

Jeno shrugs. “People are just trash when they think you’re less than them.”

“Let’s start a hashtag. Appreciate your barista, or something.” Jaemin leans closer and nuzzles his face into Jeno’s shoulder. He always tells Jeno he’s too kind to be working in retail. Too soft. Jaemin _looks_ soft but between the two of them, he’s the one that could cut throats, not Jeno.

“I also saw a dead squirrel at the side of the road,” Jeno tells Jaemin. “I don’t know, it made me sad.”

Jaemin sighs deeply. “Poor little squirrel.”

Jeno puts the plate down, scraped clean in record time. Jaemin makes the egg-fried soy sauce rice whenever anything’s wrong – when Jeno’s sick, when he has a bad day, when he breaks his phone screen yet again. Jeno doesn’t know how it can possibly taste as amazing as it does when it consists of about four ingredients but other people (including Jeno himself) have tried to make it and it’s never the same. Maybe Jaemin is a little magic that way. In a lot of ways, actually.

“Get over here,” Jaemin says and pulls Jeno against his chest, protectively wrapping his arm around him. Like this it feels so obvious to Jeno that Jaemin is just that bit taller, that bit broader than he is. In the soft glow of the fairy lights he looks like he’s spun of gold.

Jaemin cards his fingers through Jeno’s dark hair. “I’ll fight everyone who’s rude to you.”

“Please don’t.”

“I don’t want you to be sad.”

“I’m not. Just tired.”

“Sleep, then.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“What _do_ you want to do then?”

“Just…” Jeno doesn’t know. He kind of wants to stay like this, suspended in time in this magical space of fluff that Jaemin had built.

“Okay,” Jaemin says, like he understands. Maybe he does; Jeno wouldn’t be surprised.

They stay like this for what feels like hours. At some point Jaemin begins peppering Jeno’s face and shoulders with the lightest kind of kisses, draws invisible circles and flowers on his skin until he’s melted the stress away.

Jeno kisses him properly then, pushing him back into the soft blankets. Every noise is muffled in here, even the quiet sigh Jaemin lets out when Jeno presses his mouth to his throat.

“You’re my favourite,” Jeno whispers and Jaemin smiles.

“I love you, too. And I love seeing you happy. That’s all I want.”

“Thank you for doing this for me.”

“It’s nothing. I’m making you help put it all away.”

Jeno snorts. “Of course you would.”

“Actually, we can leave this up for a bit,” Jaemin says. “I’m kind of proud of it, not gonna lie.”

“It’s the best pillow fort I’ve ever seen.”

Jaemin slants a look at him. “You’re just saying that because you love me.”

“Perhaps I do,” Jeno whispers.

“Just perhaps? I’m kicking you out of my fort.”

“Nana.”

Jaemin pushes Jeno off dramatically and rolls away. “Nope, your chance is gone. Save your confessions for someone who cares.”

Jeno giggles and pulls Jaemin close again, poking at his sides. Jaemin makes an indignant sound and flips back around to slap Jeno’s arm lightly.

“You know I love you,” Jeno says quietly. It’s still difficult to say for him, even when it’s such a natural feeling now. “You and your pillow forts and your egg-fried rice.”

“Sometimes I feel like you love the rice the most,” Jaemin complains.

“I love nothing more than you.”

Jaemin sighs happily and buries his face in Jeno’s chest. “If it makes you this sappy I’ll build you pillow forts any day.”

“You’re so cute.”

“I know.”

Jeno laughs again. He’s lucky, so very lucky to have one Na Jaemin in his life.

 

***

 

“So,” Mark says, taking a sip from his smoothie. “Have you asked him yet?”

Jeno shakes his head. “I can’t seem to find the right moment.”

“It doesn’t need to be the right moment. It just needs to be a moment.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… it can be anywhere, right? You said it’s just for the two of you, so it could be at home in your kitchen or at uni, or while going grocery shopping – anywhere. It doesn’t need to be all huge and romantic because the question itself is already pretty big, isn’t it? You’re asking him to spend the rest of his life with you. You’re telling him you’ll love him for as long as you live. That’s – you know. Big.”

Jeno contemplates that for a second, feeling a nervous weight settle in his guts. “I guess you’re right.”

“You know he’s going to say yes,” Mark says quietly. “Why are you hesitating?”

“I… don’t know. It’s not that I’m scared, it’s… I don’t want him to be disappointed? I want to do it right but I only get one shot.”

Mark laughs. “You think he’s expecting you to throw a huge party around it? Jeno, he knows you best. He knows that’s not you. He’ll love it no matter what you do.”

“I, uh. I guess I’m just a coward then.”

They sit in silence for a while, sipping their respective drinks. Jeno is glad he’s asked Mark to hang out alone; the others can be helpful when they want to be but mostly they’re just confusing, giving conflicting advice and dismissing each other’s ideas. Mark is a level-headed kind of guy, someone Jeno has always been able to rely on, and one of his best friends.

“Why haven’t you proposed to Hyuck yet?” Jeno asks.

Mark chokes a little. “I, um. I think none of us is ready for that step? I know Hyuck wants it and I know I do, but I think… we need to give it some more time.”

“Do you think I should wait?”

“I don’t know, do you _want_ to wait?”

Jeno doesn’t.

“It’s normal to have doubts,” Mark says. “But you and Jaem are basically married already. Sometimes you’re so in sync it scares me.”

“I really want to…”

“There’s your answer then.”

“Well, shit.”

“Good luck, though you won’t need it.”

When Jeno looks up Mark starts laughing his giggly laugh and it’s impossible not to join in. They probably look crazy but it’s just so nerve-wrecking – the prospect of asking Jaemin.

Mark reaches over to ruffle Jeno’s hair, another series of giggles shaking his shoulders. “Ah, you kids grow up so fast.”

“Mark, you’re only one year older.”

“Shhh, don’t disrespect your elders.”

 

***

 

After the failed attempt Jeno tries to think of when best to ask the question. He’s sure he’s read every article and every blog post Google could conjure up but at the end of the day he doesn’t feel any smarter.

Maybe while recreating their first date? Then again, their first date was at the campus Starbucks and as much as Jaemin loves coffee, Jeno doesn’t think it’s romantic enough.

Maybe somewhere outside. Jaemin likes going on walks and playing basketball in the park and Jeno is pretty sure it would be nice especially now that it’s getting warmer.

Jeno is so invested in these thoughts that he almost forgets his own birthday.

It’s a Tuesday and Jaemin wakes him up with breakfast in bed, quietly humming Happy Birthday under his breath. They eat together but they both have lectures and work, so Jeno doesn’t really get to spend as much time with Jaemin as he would like.

Until the evening, at least.

Jaemin is already home when Jeno comes in, sitting at the kitchen table with a few candles illuminating his face. The candles sit on top of a small cake that’s decorated with strawberries and whipped cream.

“Hey,” Jeno says, unable to suppress the smile. It’s been a long day but it doesn’t feel like it when he gets to come home to this – Jaemin meeting him halfway, giving him a hug that feels a lot like a recharge of energy.

“Happy birthday,” Jaemin says into his neck. “I can’t believe you’re already so old.”

“Nana, I’m barely four months older –“

“So old and wrinkly. Next thing I know you’ll be bald.” Jaemin runs his fingers through Jeno’s raven hair. “But don’t worry. I’ll love you even then.”

Jeno laughs. “You’re such a nuisance.”

Jaemin sniggers and lets go of Jeno. “You said not to get you anything, so I didn’t. But! Keep your Saturday clear.”

“What are we doing on Saturday?” Jeno asks, letting Jaemin sit him down at the table.

“We’re going on a date and I’ll buy you anything you want,” Jaemin says.

“What if the only thing I want is your company?”

Jaemin grins. “That’s already guaranteed. Blow out the candles before they melt completely.”

Jeno takes a deep breath, blows and closes his eyes. The air smells like smoke and strawberries and one of Jeno’s favourite perfumes on Jaemin, the one that he’s has been using since they met.

“Make a wish,” Jaemin says softly.

But Jeno already has.

 

***

 

Jeno almost forgets about Jaemin’s Saturday plans until Jaemin jingles the car keys at him.

“Where are we going?” Jeno asks. “Please not another French restaurant.”

“I’m taking you on a date to see the cherry blossoms,” Jaemin says with an easy smile.

Jeno doesn’t know why he keeps letting Jaemin sit in the driver’s seat. He’s a _terrible_ driver. So terrible that Jeno doesn’t know how he even managed to get his license. Jaemin always says ‘gays can’t drive’, completely ignoring that Jeno technically is one too while still being able to parallel-park and comply with traffic regulations.

But Jeno’s weak for Jaemin and if Jaemin wants to drive then, well. He better have someone in the passenger seat who can remind him of the speed limit.

 

There’s this park around an hour away that has long gravelly paths that are lined with cherry trees. It’s often full of tourists in spring when the trees are blooming for a short time but today isn’t especially sunny, nor especially warm. The grounds are big enough that there are some quieter corners and they share an ice cream, feeding each other even though Jeno thinks that’s embarrassing.

Right now they’re standing on a square of grass; or Jeno is. Jaemin is a little ahead, blinking up at the branches.

He looks like something out of a fairy tale standing under the cherry trees. An elf, maybe. He’s dressed in a pastel-pink sweater, the sleeves so long they cover his knuckles and the shy spring sun that’s filtering through the clouds makes his smile glow.

It’s difficult to appreciate the blossoms when Jeno has him to look at.

“They’re so pretty,” Jaemin says, holding out his hand to catch a falling petal. The wind is ruffling through the leaves, sending them flying like pink flurries of snow.

“You’re prettier,” Jeno says, ears hot.

Jaemin grins at him and picks an intact blossom off the ground, putting it in Jeno’s hair. “And you’re the prettiest.”

_This_ , Jeno thinks. This is it. There’s no one around to watch them, the air is just warm enough to not warrant a jacket over their hoodies, and Jaemin looks like spring himself – fresh, and bright, and absolutely stunning. The first motion of life after the winter, making something in his heart unfurl.

There’s another gust of wind and more petals fall. Jaemin laughs and throws his arms out, spinning and dancing around Jeno without a care in the world.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” he asks, glancing back at Jeno. He takes Jeno by the hands and whirls him around, hair flying everywhere.

Jeno can’t answer, can only laugh in wonder.

The beauty of the cherry blossoms is fleeting but Jaemin’s is eternal. It comes from within and shines through every day, sometimes so bright that he’s difficult to look at. He smiles so wide that Jeno thinks he can see every single one of his perfect teeth, carries his heart on his sleeve for everyone to see and touch, is so unapologetic about his endless affection for others that Jeno still can’t help but be stunned by that bravery.

“What?” Jaemin asks. He’s a little out of breath and the smile won’t leave his face. He lets go of Jeno and spins around again, jumps up to catch another blossom that was blown off its tree.

Jeno can feel his heartbeat in his fingertips. He reaches for Jaemin again, waits until Jaemin’s fingers lock around his own, so familiar, a puzzle piece falling back into place.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” Jeno says.

This is not how the letter started that he wrote but it doesn’t matter because Jeno is just going to say the truth. He’s just going to tell Jaemin what he feels in his heart, the heart that belongs to Jaemin only.

“You, too,” Jaemin replies. He lifts their intertwined hands to kiss the back of Jeno’s.

Jeno swallows. “I have… something to say.”

“Oh.”

“Something good!” Jeno adds quickly, looking at Jaemin’s worried face. He _never_ wants Jaemin to worry. He wants to keep him happy for as long as he can. And he’ll try. Oh, he’ll try.

“So, what?” Jaemin asks. “Did you think of something you want me to get you? Or did you get promoted? Because that is long overdue and I think you’d –“

“Jaeminie.”

It’s really hard to look at him now and at the same time it’s harder to look away. Jaemin’s warm eyes are searching, questioning, and Jeno doesn’t think it’s going to take him long to realise what’s happening.

But god, Jeno is so bad at this. At voicing what he feels – and he feels _so much_. There’s no way he can put all of it into words. Jaemin is so captivating, so full of magic, so familiar that Jeno can’t imagine a life without him. He makes Jeno feel _safe_. Like he’s arrived at home, no matter where they are.

“You know, it hasn’t even been three years now but,” Jeno says. His voice is wobbly even though he promised himself he wouldn’t cry – but he figures he can’t do anything about it. About the weight of this question and its meaning. Maybe he’s a romantic after all.

“But, what?” Jaemin asks.

Jeno takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry I’m so shit at this, you deserve the speech and everything but I just – I mean it when I say that you’re the best thing I have in my life. And I – I don’t know if you’re aware of what a good person you are. Nana, you’re the best person I know. You make me feel so complete, like I can finally breathe, and you make every single day brighter. Sometimes when I wake up next to you and you make that cute sleepy noise I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to be yours. You give the best hugs and even when I feel like shit or when I’m annoying, you somehow still manage to be there for me. And I – I want to be there for you, too. Always. Whenever you need me, whenever you want me, maybe even when you don’t think you want me but still need someone. I want to be your source of strength the same way you are for me. I want to be your pillar and make you smile and…”

Jeno is sure Jaemin has caught on by now. He can tell by the gloss in his eyes, the way he’s squeezing Jeno’s hand, the way his breath keeps catching. There’s a petal stuck in his messy hair but god – Jeno loves him so much. With his entire being. He’ll never ever be able to explain this to anyone. Maybe someday he can put it into a song, just for Jaemin.

“Nana,” Jeno keeps going, trying to keep it together. “Every room you walk into, you flood with sunlight. Every person you meet, you give them your time and attention, no matter how much of a rush you’re in. There’s so much that I love and admire about you that I can’t find the words – they’d never do you justice anyway and I… I’m in love with you. I am irrevocably and unconditionally in love with you. I have two hands so I can hold one of yours and clear the way for you with the other. My heart belongs to you and I want to – want to ask if…”

Here it is. Jaemin’s bottom lip is trembling when Jeno reaches into his pocket, pulling out the ring and sinking down to his knees.

Jeno thinks there’s something incredibly vulnerable about the gesture. Kneeling in front of someone. Giving yourself over, utterly, completely. Trusting the other not to hurt you. _I want to be yours_.

Jeno thought he’d be too stressed to cry but here he is, pressing his lips together in an attempt to hold back the tears, looking at Jaemin, who’s covering his mouth with his hands. Jeno sees it all in his eyes – the shock, the affection, the feeling of being completely overwhelmed.

Jeno clears his throat. Holds out the ring – an offering, a wish, a promise. “Na Jaemin. Will you. Will you marry me?”

Jaemin sobs behind his hands, the tears finally spilling over, nodding frantically before he answers. “I – _yes_. Yes, yes, yes.”

He holds out his left hand but they’re both shaking so badly that it takes Jeno three tries to get the ring on. Jaemin pulls him up and then suddenly they’re laughing into each other’s shoulders, Jeno picking him up and spinning him around. Jeno feels like he’s soaring, like his chest is about to burst with the amount of love he has for this man. He’s done it and Jaemin said _yes_ , is still saying yes between stuttered breaths, has said yes to a future with Jeno, whatever that may look like.

“I love you,” Jaemin says, voice muffled from where he’s hiding his face in Jeno’s neck. “I didn’t – didn’t expect this. I’ve thought about it, you know, about what I want and it’s – it’s you, Jen. Always you. You make me so h-happy and I just….”

Jeno laughs. He pulls away a little to look at the ring, the silver glinting in the April sun, bright like Jaemin’s eyes.

Jaemin is still crying a little and Jeno swipes the tears away with his thumbs, holds his face in his palms. He said yes. Jeno asked him for forever and Jaemin said yes.

“I can’t believe you’ve upstaged my birthday date for you,” Jaemin says thickly, holding Jeno’s hands close with his own.

“How lucky I am that you said yes anyway,” Jeno replies.

Jaemin’s smile is a night full of fireflies. It’s a summer morning’s sunrise. It’s all city lights being switched on at once. “I’m the lucky one here.”

When they kiss, the wind runs its fingers through the trees, showering them with more soft pink petals. No one is here to take a picture, bear witness to the moment that changes both of their lives, no one is here to film it. There’s no dance performance and no acoustic song and no roses, but it’s perfect nonetheless. It’s perfect because Jaemin is here. Because he said yes. Because right now, Jeno can hold the future in his hands in the form of a silver band on Jaemin’s finger.

“This is what I wished for when I blew out the candles,” Jeno confesses quietly.

“That I’d say yes?”

“That I would be brave enough to ask.”

Jaemin leans in and kisses him again.

 

They lie in bed together later, exhausted after a day full of giggles and excitement and affection. Jaemin is mouthing lazy kisses onto Jeno’s skin while Jeno plays with the ring on Jaemin’s finger, both of them more asleep than awake.

“Did you really say yes?” Jeno asks quietly. His voice is barely even a breath but in the silence of the room he still feels like he’s being too loud.

Jaemin presses his lips to Jeno’s bare sternum again before he scoots up a little to look at him, his eyes shimmering in the dark. He crosses his arms over Jeno’s chest to rest his chin on them. “Obviously.”

“Unbelievable.”

“It’s not how I thought today would go, but I’m not going to complain.”

“How did you think today would go?”

Jaemin shrugs a little. “I thought I’d take you out for ice cream, get you to let me buy you some clothes, and then, I don’t know, have belated birthday sex at home.”

Jeno snorts. “We already –“

“Didn’t feel like enough.”

“Thirsty.”

“Can you really blame me, though? Look at you.” Jaemin slides his fingers over Jeno’s torso, down to his hip. “It’s like God took his time with you to make sure you were perfect. Someone to be worshipped. Then he made me to do just that.”

“You don’t even believe in God, you heathen.”

“You make me a believer.”

They look at each other and Jaemin smiles. He looks happy, Jeno thinks, running his thumb over Jaemin’s knuckles. Happy and content and all the things Jeno always wants him to be.

“After we get married,” Jaemin whispers, “can we get a puppy?”

“Only if we can also get a cat,” Jeno replies.

Jaemin grins again and closes his eyes, slotting his naked thigh between Jeno’s legs. “Deal.”

 

That night, Jeno falls asleep with his head pillowed on Jaemin’s broad chest, his heartbeat in his ear and a promise of forever linked between their fingers.

 

***

 

They meet up with their friends a few days later and Jaemin blatantly flaunts his ring, scratching his temple as obviously as he can. It takes about thirty seconds before Hyuck notices with a window-shattering scream and then Jeno is pulled into a very chaotic group hug that nearly dislocates his shoulder. Jaemin gets a little teary-eyed again, claiming it’s only because Hyuck does, too.

“Right.” Renjun claps to get everyone’s attention. Jaemin comes back to Jeno’s side after everyone’s done swooning over the ring, sliding his hand into his. “Congrats and all, but like. Any plans for _when_ you’re going to marry?”

“ _Marry_ ,” Jisung repeats disbelievingly. “God, I feel old now. My friends are starting to get _married_.”

Chenle giggles and elbows him in the ribs to shut him up.

Jeno looks at Jaemin and shrugs. “We have time, right?”

“What about next summer?” Jaemin asks.

Jeno stares at him.

Next summer. That’s… only a little more than a year. If he’s honest, Jeno thought they’d push the actual wedding until they both have permanent positions and a stable income. Just – more of a life. An _adult_ life. Not the university student kind of shit they have going on right now. How would they even pay for everything? Get it all planned when they have degrees to finish?

“Please let me help with the planning,” Hyuck begs immediately. “Since I’ll probably _never_ get married –“

“Oh my _God,_ Hyuckie, I –“

“– I need to live my dreams through you guys.”

Jaemin waves him off. “We’ll probably find you something to help with.”

“We have some time until we need to think about this anyway,” Jeno says quickly, steering the topic into a different direction. He’ll think about this later. Talk to Jaemin about what they want, and when.

Though, Jeno has to admit, the thought of marrying Jaemin sooner rather than later, is not that bad at all.

 

***

 

Jeno calls his sister a few days later. Yeri and he have always been kind of close despite Jeno being the typical annoying little brother when growing up and Jeno likes talking to her regularly.

Also it’s much easier to tell her first before Jeno visits his parents.

The line crackles before she picks up. “ _Hey, what’s up_?”

“Hey,” Jeno says. “Do you have a minute?”

“ _Damn, that sounds serious. Did something happen? Do you need anything?_ ”

“No, uh, I have news.”

“ _News?_ ”

“Yeah. I – ugh.” Jeno takes a deep breath. “I proposed to Jaemin.”

Yeri shrieks. Jeno saw it coming, wisely holding his phone a little away from his ear until she finds her voice again.

“ _Jeno, what the fuck, you’re twenty-three!_ ”

“Twenty-four now, actually –“

“ _JENO! You’re a_ baby _!_ ”

“I’m –“

“ _But what did he say?!_ ”

Jeno can’t help but smile. “He said yes.”

“ _AHHH!!! Congrats, baby bro, this is – hug Jaemin for me, yeah? I was hoping this would happen someday, he’s so sweet to you, I just – wait. Do mum and dad know?_ ”

“Not yet. We’re, uh. Visiting them tomorrow.”

“ _Holy shit, I’ll make sure to come by. I have to see that. I’ll bring something to drink_.”

“Oh my God, please calm down –“

“ _When are you getting married?_ ”

“If it was up to Jaemin probably next year, but I’m in no rush and you know, we have to finish –“

“ _That’s so cute, oh my God! Is Jaemin there with you? Can I please talk to him? Just for a second, please, Jeno!!_ ”

Jeno sighs and pauses, listening to find out if Jaemin is done showering. “Let me check.”

He gets up and knocks on the door. There’s some rummaging before the door opens, revealing Jaemin with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

“If you wanted to join you’re too late,” Jaemin says with a pout.

Jeno’s cheeks heat up and he gestures to the phone. “I just told my sister that I proposed to you and now she wants to talk to you.”

Jaemin laughs, not at all flustered, and takes the phone out of Jeno’s hands. “Hey, Yeri! Ahhh, thank you, I really had no idea –” He pushes Jeno out of the way, striding past him in the direction of the couch. Jeno watches him go, listens to him telling Yeri how everything went down.

Jaemin gets along with Yeri almost too well for Jeno’s taste. They regularly team up to tell each other embarrassing stories about Jeno but he figures that’s still better than them hating each other’s guts.

Jeno follows Jaemin back to the living room, sitting down next to him. Jaemin winks at him, pulling him closer while he describes the ring to Yeri, and Jeno places his head on Jaemin’s bare stomach. He smells like his shower gel, fresh and sharp and masculine, but under that still like Jaemin.

Jaemin laughs at something Yeri said and starts carding his fingers through Jeno’s hair.

“I never thought he’d be the one asking, either,” he says and smiles down at Jeno. “But I’m so, so glad he did.”

 

***

 

All things considered, telling Jeno’s parents could be a lot worse. Jeno doesn’t even have to say anything.

It goes like this:

“Lee Jeno!” his mother shouts from the kitchen, pushing open the door while dragging Jaemin along with her by the wrist. “Is that an engagement ring on your boyfriend’s finger!?”

Jeno scratches his neck. “Well, you see…”

“His fiancé now,” Jaemin says cheerily. Jeno’s mum looks at him with an expression somewhere between shock and indignation before she abruptly pulls him into a hug.

“Well, thank God it’s you, Jaemin,” she mumbles into his shoulder. “I wouldn’t trust Jeno upon anyone else.”

Jeno glances at his dad, carefully gauging his reaction. He’d been a little reluctant about the whole Jeno liking boys thing, was even more hesitant when Jeno introduced Jaemin. Jeno thinks it’s mostly thanks to Jaemin’s irresistible charm that his dad warmed up to him after all.

His dad looks at him, eyes smiling, and claps his hand on Jeno’s shoulder. “Congrats, kid.”

Jeno smiles back at him.

 

Yeri arrives ten minutes later, when everyone has been hugged, all eventual tears have been dried and Jeno’s mum has just stopped fawning over the ring. She comes in with two bottles of wine. “Oh, hey, guys! Jeno, I had _no idea_ I’d see you here, wow, what a coincidence –“

“You missed it,” Jeno says.

The smile falls off Yeri’s face. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“Yeri!” their mother snaps. “Don’t make me wash your mouth with soap!”

 

***

 

“Baby. Jen. Fiancé. _Hey_.”

When Jeno comes back from whatever fictional world he’s been lost in, Jaemin’s snapping his fingers in front of his face. “Huh?”

“Are we going to Pride this year?” Jaemin asks.

Jeno considers this, pushing his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. “Do you want to?”

“I mean, yeah. But not by myself.”

“Let’s go then.”

Jeno doesn’t usually get involved much in pride events, or at least he didn’t used to before he met Jaemin.

But Jaemin likes Pride. He _is_ proud. He’s definitely more out than Jeno is, has always been so much louder about it, and Jeno thinks it must be because of all the shit he got during high school.

Jeno only officially came out when he came to uni. High school wasn’t amazing but he saved himself a lot of hurt, it seems, even when that meant hiding a part of himself.

Jaemin won’t hide. Will never hide. Jaemin is brave and he stands tall for who he is and he won’t back down. It’s one of the things that make Jeno’s chest swell every time he thinks about it.

And he has to admit, there’s a certain flair during Pride that always makes him a little teary-eyed. So many people, standing up for their rights. Standing up for love. Protecting each other. It’s not like Jeno has never encountered any homophobia; quite to opposite, actually. Standing in a crowd full of people who’ve felt the same and still go out on the streets to claim their right to exist – it doesn’t leave Jeno untouched.

“Maybe we should join the parade this time instead of just watching,” Jeno muses.

Jaemin looks up, surprised and hopeful. “Did you really just say that?”

“Um, yeah. Why not?”

“I… don’t know. I mean, I’d love to.”

Jeno knew he would. “Then let’s.”

“Cool.” Jaemin crawls forward until he can fold himself comfortably around Jeno, head resting on his shoulder. They go back to what they were doing before: Jaemin playing some game on his iPad, Jeno reading his fantasy novel. Just another quiet late afternoon that Jeno wouldn’t trade for anything else.

 

***

 

Jeno leaves the planning of the outfits for Pride to Jaemin. As a fashion major he knows what he’s doing and even though Jeno is sure Jaemin will go overboard for this occasion, he trusts him.

Or that’s what he thought until it’s actually the day of Pride and Jaemin’s trying to get him into the extremely loose-knitted rainbow sweater he’s picked out.

“Come on,” Jaemin whines. “You don’t wear enough colour anyway.”

“ _Colour_ ,” Jeno repeats, holding up the sweater. “Is this thing even a clothing item? It’s more holes than anything else. Just a bunch of threads, really.”

“Well, it’s summer,” Jaemin points out.

“You want me to go basically shirtless?”

Jaemin sighs heavily, like Jeno is being particularly difficult. “This is _fashion_ , baby.”

“What are _you_ going to wear?” Jeno asks and crosses his arms.

Jaemin’s mildly annoyed expression turns into a shark grin and Jeno regrets agreeing to this even more. “Oh honey, you’re not even ready.”

 

When Jaemin comes out of their bedroom, Jeno has to sit down.

He’s wearing a black crop top with the words ‘gay as fuck’ in rainbow colours printed on it. There’s a thin strip of his stomach showing before the tight, high-waisted chessboard pants begin that lead down his long legs to two mismatched long socks; one is white, the other black, both with another rainbow stitched onto the side.

Jaemin raises his arms with a smirk and does a slow turn. The action pulls up the crop top even higher, the hem teasing the sharp curves of his ribs.

“No,” Jeno decides, trying not to stare at how snugly those pants hug Jaemin’s ass. “I’m not letting you leave the house like that. No way.”

Jaemin grins and bounds over to Jeno like an excited puppy. He picks the sweater disaster back up and pushes it into Jeno’s hands, batting his lashes in a way he knows will get Jeno to say yes. “Try it on? Just for my personal entertainment? _Please_ , Jen.”

 

Jeno considers himself in the mirror. Jaemin is standing right behind him to look over his shoulder, eyes glinting with a sinister kind of joy.

Jeno still thinks the sweater can’t possibly deserve its name. His chest and stomach are clearly visible through it, inciting Jaemin to thread his fingers through the holes and poke at his abs. The rest of his outfit consists of a pair of black shorts and the same mismatched socks Jaemin is wearing.

“Look how cute we look next to each other,” Jaemin tries and pulls Jeno against his side, nosing at his cheek.

“We look like clowns,” Jeno says.

“We don’t. We’re hot. Also we’re going to _Pride_ , this is barely even bright enough.”

“I won’t go unless we both wear something underneath these sweaters.”

Jaemin opens his mouth in offence. “And hide my amazing dancer bod? No way. And you can show off a little, too, I mean…“ He runs his hand over Jeno’s stomach again.

Jeno slaps him away. “You’re terrible, you know? I can’t believe I still want to marry you.”

Jaemin grins brightly because he knows he’s won and that already almost makes everything worth it. “I love you, too.”

Jeno rolls his eyes and pushes him. “If anyone so much as looks at you for too long I’m dragging you home.”

“And I thought I was the jealous one.” Jaemin throws his arms around Jeno again, planting a wet kiss on his cheek before lowering his voice to a teasing drawl. “But babe, you know I’m yours.”

Jeno takes another deep breath and steers Jaemin in the direction of the door. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

 

“Renjun isn’t coming. He said – and I quote: ‘I don’t need to see any more gays than I already do every goddamn day,’” Jaemin informs Jeno, squinting at the screen of his phone. In the middle of the crowd their outfits really aren’t that noticeable, much to Jeno’s relief. “Hyuck says he and Mark are somewhere near the front, though. Do we really bother with trying to catch up?”

Jeno shrugs. “I’m only here for you.”

Jaemin squeals and flings himself at Jeno, the pride flag he’s brought along fanning out like a superhero cape.

“Watch your makeup,” Jeno says weakly when Jaemin squishes their cheeks together.

“Oh fuck.” Jaemin pulls back hurriedly and points at his face. “Everything still okay?”

A bunch of people at the start of the parade had offered free face paint and _of course_ Jaemin couldn’t be stopped. He has glitter in his hair and rainbows on both cheeks now, the right one just a little bit smudged before Jeno fixes it for him with his thumb.

“All good.”

Jaemin grins again. He’s a different kind of ethereal here, so vivid and free and unrestrained. Jeno can’t help but smile back, the atmosphere of the parade finally infecting him, too.

Jaemin hooks his hand into the crook of his elbow and pulls him along. “Time to be a little proud of ourselves, Jen.”

 

By the time the May sun is low enough to not blind them anymore, Jeno is a little drunk, exhausted and has made approximately fifty new friends. The thing about Pride is that everyone loves anyone, the distributed alcohol knocking down the last inhibitions, the blasted songs inviting people to dance and sing with each other. Jaemin keeps pulling Jeno further and further into the crowd, shouting, “I’m getting married to this one!” and earning congratulations from hundreds of enthusiastic strangers.

The parade has dispersed into a general crowd now, thinning out as time ticks on. Jeno’s feet hurt like hell and Jaemin is a little hoarse but there’s so much _life_ here. So much freedom. Everyone who’s here has made similar experiences but they get to be themselves now, at least for these few hours.

Jeno thinks of the stories Jaemin has told him about high school. How people used to push him and hit him and call him names. He looks at Jaemin now, who’s talking to a girl with electric blue hair, smiling and encouraging her, telling her it gets better. He tugs Jeno close, says, “Someday you’ll meet someone who’s worth all these struggles.” He looks back at Jeno, smiles wider. “You know what they say. Love wins, and all that.”

The girl thanks him profusely but Jeno doesn’t really listen, can’t stop looking at Jaemin.

Jaemin, with rainbows on his cheeks and a pride flag around his shoulders. Jaemin, who has never let anyone dim his brightness. Jaemin, who was never once ashamed of who he is.

Jeno takes the flag and spreads it over them, shielding them from view when it settles over their heads. He feels safe. He feels protected, like nothing could disturb them or set them apart. He feels _proud_. This moment, this day – it belongs to them. And they belong to each other.

Jeno pulls Jaemin closer, one hand on his nape while the other is holding the corner of the flag. The sunlight shining through the fabric paints Jaemin’s skin a soft rainbow pastel. So colourful. So vibrant. Like Jaemin himself.

“Thanks for doing this with me,” Jaemin says softly. He leans in so close that their lips are almost touching. “You know you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to anyway,” Jeno says and closes his eyes. “I’m glad I did. I’m so proud of you.”

Jaemin kisses him under that pride flag, in the middle of a busy street full of people celebrating who they are. This is for them – just a moment to be free of the worries, of the fears, of the hurt. It’s for _them_ – Lee Jeno and Na Jaemin, holding each other’s hands through all of it.

 

***

 

Jaemin is going to be the one wearing white. He’s also going to be the one walking down the aisle to where Jeno’s waiting, being led by his mum. As a former drama kid, he likes the attention more than Jeno. The band is going to play.

These are the kinds of decisions that are easy. They’re in such an early stage of planning that they can push the difficult ones back a little but Jeno just knows they’re going to fight about certain things. About who sits with whom. About what they’re going to have for dessert.

“You know, we could wait,” Jeno says one evening when they’re sitting on the couch, magazines spread out and laptops open on various tabs. “We’d probably have a bigger budget if we did.”

“You’ve asked me, so we’re getting married,” Jaemin says confidently, shooting Jeno a bright smile. “I love that I can say that now. I’m getting married to _Lee Jeno_. Suck on that, high school bullies.”

Jeno snorts. “Fine. But no more pink. What about blue? Blue is nice.”

“But blue is a cold colour! I don’t want to look at my venue and shiver.”

“It’s not going to make you _shiver_ –“

“How about pastel violet? Like, lavender?”

“Hm. Maybe? Write it down until we find something better.”

Jaemin scribbles it down on his notepad before looking back up. “Do you think we _should_ wait?”

“It’s just… you only get married once, you know? I mean, hopefully,” Jeno says. “I want it to be the best it can be.”

“You know our families will help out financially, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jaemin soothes. “I probably couldn’t stop my grandma if I tried, bless her.”

Jeno puffs his cheeks out. “Is this really happening?”

“Only if you want it to.” Jaemin throws the notepad on the table and joins Jeno where he’s sitting on the floor, kicking another magazine out of the way. Jaemin lifts his arm, so Jeno can fit himself under it, shoulder snug against his side.

“I want to,” Jeno tells him. “But I’m scared, too.”

“Of what? We’re still going to be the same, just with different rings.”

“Not that, just. That it won’t be perfect.”

Jaemin laughs lowly. “You know, if we do a really good job planning this whole thing it _will_ be perfect. Hyuck already said he’ll help and the others will have to as well when we make them groomsmen. And even if it doesn’t go smoothly, it’s still going to be our wedding. Do you get it? It’s special and amazing no matter what happens.”

“You’re right, I guess.”

“Course I am.” Jaemin presses a kiss to Jeno’s temple. “Want to take a break from all this?”

Jeno regards him carefully and Jaemin grins, a sly look in his eyes. “To do what instead?”

“Make out or something.”

“Or something?”

Jaemin flutters his eyelashes at him. “Is there something you want to do?”

“How about I kick your ass at Mario Kart?”

Jaemin groans. “I was hoping for something else, but yeah, sure. That’s fun, too.”

“We can make out afterwards. To cheer you up from having lost to me again.”

“I will not lose to you, Lee Jeno. I’ve practiced while you were at work. Get ready for your downfall.”

 

***

 

“What about a winter wedding?”

“You hate the cold.”

“But snow is pretty.”

“There’s no guarantee that there will be snow. Maybe it will just be cold and then you’ll be miserable.”

“Oh my _God_ , Jen. In summer there’s no guarantee that it won’t rain. We’re never getting anywhere like this. You gotta believe a little.”

“I’m telling you, you’ll hate the cold.”

“Fine. No winter wedding. And no summer wedding because it will be too hot.”

“Cool. So. Spring or autumn?”

“Any preference?”

“Not really.”

“Everyone gets married in spring.”

“How about September then? That gives us lots of time, too.”

“What if I said I’d rather marry you sooner than later?”

“So… a spring wedding. Will that give us enough time?”

“We can make it work. Imagine the cherry blossoms. That would be pretty, right?”

“Hm. It would.”

Silence as Jaemin scribbles something down.

“What if we play the Star Wars theme instead of the wedding march?”

“Babe. You did not just ask me that.”

“Nana, imagine how badass that would be!”

“It’s a _wedding_!”

“Hmpf. Fine.”

 

***

 

Late morning. The little tree in front of their apartment is bushy with bright green leaves, birds chirping from its branches that are gently swaying in the breeze.

They’re sitting at the tiny table in the kitchen, about to try the fancy French bread that Jaemin made. It’s still oven-warm, steam rising from the inside when Jeno tears a corner off his slice, and it smells like heaven.

The two of them are quiet. Have been all morning. The day is packed with duties – Jeno has a dentist appointment, Jaemin has to get his hair cut, after that they are going to check out a venue, then it’s groceries and laundry and all the stuff they hadn’t gotten around to do during the rest of the week.

But it never stops them from having slow mornings. Jaemin will slouch in his chair doing stuff on his beloved iPad while having another cup of coffee, Jeno will sit opposite of him watching the birds in the tree or reading newspapers while having a simple breakfast.

And somehow Jaemin took the time to make bread today. Jeno was surprised to see Jaemin in the kitchen before him, given that he’s usually the one who sleeps in whenever he can, but Jaemin smiled at him and said he felt like doing this.

Jeno is not going to complain.

“How is it?” Jaemin asks, wrapping his hands around his mug.

“Amazing,” Jeno says honestly. “You should try it.”

Jaemin simply shakes his head. It’s probably too early for him; he never eats breakfast, always goes straight for lunch when the time comes. Jeno still wonders how he manages that. If he skips breakfast he’s grumpy for the rest of the day.

“It’s only nine months,” Jaemin says quietly. “You know, until the wedding.”

Jeno reaches across the table to take Jaemin’s hand, circling his thumb over his knuckles. “Are you worried?”

“Nah. Just impatient.”

“No second thoughts?”

Jaemin grins and gets up, rounding the table. He pushes at Jeno’s shoulder until he gets the hint, scooting back so that Jaemin can sit on his lap.

“Oh, Jeno,” he says and wraps one arm around Jeno’s neck. “The one thing I’ll never have second thoughts about is you.”

Jeno doesn’t think he could be any happier than he is now, but the future will show him.

Jaemin will show him.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> That's it guys!! sorry for the slightly ooc moments but pls let me know if you enjoyed this. Kudos and comments are always appreciated <3
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